


And Love Said No

by EndoratheWitch



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Animated Series, Batman: The Dark Prince Charming (Comics), Harley Quinn (Comics), Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arkham Asylum, Biting, Car Accidents, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fights, Lost Love, Memory Loss, Movie: Batman (1989), Parades, Psychological Torture, Sex, Temporary Amnesia, Torture, nonabusive Joker and Harley Quinn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:56:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 78,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25927762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EndoratheWitch/pseuds/EndoratheWitch
Summary: Harley is in an accident that leads to her forgetting all about being Harley Quinn
Relationships: Joker (DCU)/Harleen Quinzel
Comments: 140
Kudos: 154





	1. Overwhelming Questions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chubbymonkeylee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chubbymonkeylee/gifts).



> This was a great story idea given to me by ChubbyMonkeylee! Thank you for letting me write it :)

Wearing only his purple slacks and an unbuttoned green dress shirt that hung open, Joker stood in the living room with his hands balled into fists. His anger was rapidly morphing into panic. He wasn’t sure what to do to change the situation as it was right now. Usually when things got out of hand between Harley and him--usually over something stupid--Bob or Frost would come in and help settle them both down, make them see how stupid they were being, stop them from saying things they didn’t mean! But Bob was gone and Frost was with his girlfriend and FUCK… 

What were they fighting about? Joker couldn’t even remember now. But this time the fight had escalated way out of hand and he didn’t even know why! He felt hollow inside, as if the rest of his life had suddenly died. The ache in his gut was something he wasn't accustomed to feeling. A hollow hole weighed heavily in his chest… 

Joker’s eyes were stinging with unshed tears. He squeezed his fists until his nails bit painfully into his palms. 

Harley had yelled that she was leaving for a few days to stay with Ivy and he didn’t know what to do to stop her… 

He just didn’t know what to do. 

* 

In the other room, Harley, still in her sweats and an old t-shirt, was shoving clothing into her bag without looking at what she was grabbing. There were tears in her eyes and she felt so angry, except now that she was packing she couldn’t remember how the fight had started or what it was about or how she had even let it get this far... 

She felt an ache in the pit of her stomach and her chest felt as if something was gnawing at her heart. She felt hurt, alone, defeated… 

She finished packing her bag, wiped angrily at her eyes while she slipped on her tennis shoes and stormed out of the room. Joker was still standing where she had left him, but he didn’t do anything. He didn’t say anything to her, or move toward her, but his eyes were on her, his blue gaze confused. If he had been crying that would have broken her, but Harley didn’t look at him as she left their room, slamming the door behind her. 

She went down the stairs quickly. Tears were falling despite her best effort, staining her cheeks as she hurried over to where she knew Frost kept all the keys to the extra vehicles. The hideout was quiet today, but it usually was in the afternoon like this because she and Joker slept during the afternoons. She grabbed the keys to the Chevrolet Volt that they had stolen a couple of weeks ago. They had just gotten the car back with a new paint job and new plates. She headed out to the garage in the back, not bothering to turn on the lights as she made her way over to the car. 

Harley opened the car up, threw her bag into the back and got in. She had just put the key in the car and started the engine when she felt overwhelmed with a feeling of desolation. She still loved him, no matter how hard they had just fought, and the thought of leaving him hurt, hurt her so much. But… 

She was just too angry at him right now. 

Sniffing, wiping her nose with the back of her hand, Harley pulled out, pushing the button for the garage door and drove slowly out. She would have to take the alley easy because of how tight it was, but once she hit the street out front she would be speeding away from here...from him… 

* 

Joker stood still, his eyes wide. Tears had started to fall down his cheeks without him realizing it, his lips trembling. She was really leaving him… 

The pain in his chest, in his gut, was all consuming. He couldn't imagine life without Harley. He couldn’t see himself without her by his side, laughing with him, planning with him, just being with him. The thought of not wrapping himself around her at night, or her wrapped around him made his knees weak and his stomach turn. 

He couldn’t live without her, he simply couldn’t go on, without Harley. He loved her and nothing they had argued about was worth losing her over. 

Finally he was able to move. 

He had to get her back. No matter what it took, he needed his pumpkin... 

* 

Harley pulled the car onto the street and had just started to pull away. She had made her way up the street to the stop sign when movement in her rearview caught her eye… 

* 

Joker rushed downstairs, didn’t bother with shoes or going to the garage. Instead he ran straight outside into the bright afternoon sunlight which momentarily blinded him before he rushed into the street to look both ways, his heart beating a mile a minute with both hope and fear. His eyes were wide and he shook with frantic energy as he searched for one of their cars. He recognized one of their recently acquired cars and Harley’s blonde hair. A smile broke out on his face; it wasn’t too late! 

Joker waved his arms frantically at her and yelled at the top of his lungs. “HARLEY!!” 

He started to run. He didn’t care that it was the middle of the afternoon, that there were people outside on the sidewalk and people driving by. He had to get her to come back, he had to or his heart and mind would break, this time never to heal… 

* 

Harley gasped when she saw Joker running toward her waving his arms around like a mad man. The tight knot of tension that had been twisting in her chest suddenly seemed to unwind. She smiled, fresh tears springing to her eyes. Her love for him swelled in her chest and she immediately put the car in reverse. She wasn’t going to leave--she couldn't leave. How could she have even thought she could survive without her puddin? 

Harley smiled through her tears were now of happiness. “Oh puddin…” 

* 

Joker saw the car zipping out of the alley from the corner of his eye at the same time that Harley backed up. It was like everything slowed down at that moment. There was so sound, no air, his eyes were just hyper-focused on the details of Harley and her car. The car from the alley was speeding, racing out of the alley, its driver notlooking before they pulled out just as Harley backed up. He saw what was about to happen and there was nothing he could do to stop it. 

The car crashed into the side of Harley’s car. He saw the way the front end of the racing vehicle slammed into Harley’s door, saw her blonde hair fly as her head was whipped to the side, and then just as suddenly the sound returned. 

Joker watched in shock as Harley’s car was flipped over onto its roof then flipped over one more time to land on its side. Joker dropped to his knees in the middle of the street, his eyes wide. 

Harley’s car was swarmed by people on the streets, other cars were pulling to a stop. He heard shouting and people were running past Joker without seeing him, heading toward the accident. 

Joker was frozen, couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe... 

Just as something in him broke and he started to stand, he felt hands on his shoulders, grabbing him and yanking him back. Joker heard himself shout, spinning around to punch and claw at whoever was trying to hold him. There were more hands, someone was yelling at him, but he couldn’t hear what was being said. 

He had to get to Harley. 

He felt large arms wrap around him and lift him off his feet. Joker screamed, but then something hit in him the back of his head hard enough that he saw stars...then only darkness… 

* 

Dr. Thompkins frowned, her arms folded across her chest, looking over the chart of the young woman in front of her in the hospital bed of the darkened room. The poor thing looked like a wounded angel though her pretty face was currently relaxed in unconsciousness. Her blonde hair had just been cleaned of blood as had the rest of her; cleaned, stitched, bandaged, and casted up. Her hands were folded over her chest, the only sound in the room was the steady beep, beep of the monitors. There was a bandage across the left side of the young woman’s forehead covering a deep gash that had been stitched, but Thompkins was confident the wound would not leave much of a scar. A number of contusions marred the patient’s face and she had suffered a broken arm, a dislocated hip, whiplash, and three cracked ribs along with cuts and bruises. The young woman hadn’t been wearing a seatbelt. 

She had been damn lucky. 

Thompkins took a deep breath, tucking a stray strand of dark hair behind her ear as she waited. She had been able to keep the patient’s identity secret. The young woman had been brought in without an ID, but Dr. Thompkins had recognized her at once, the former Dr. Harleen Quinzel, now known as Harley Quinn. She had informed Batman right away instead of informing the police after Harleen had come to briefly while Thompkins was stitching the wound on her head. She had given her name as Harleen Quinzel when Thompkins had asked her if she remembered her name. The young woman hadn’t been able to answer other questions, such as the date, where she was going, where she lived...and there had been something odd in her tone in addition to the fact that she had identified herself as Harleen instead of Harley, which was why Dr. Thompkins had contacted Batman instead of the police. 

Thompkins remembered Harleen as an enthusiastic doctor with a passion for her work. She wasn’t sure what she was hoping for, but… 

“How is she?” 

Thompkins had to swallow her yelp as she spun around to see Batman forming out of the shadows of the room behind her. “God! I wish you wouldn’t do that!” 

Batman said nothing as he strode over to stand beside the bed where Harleen lay unmoving. “Has she said anything else?” 

“No, not yet. Her name was the only thing she seems to remember.” Thompkins moved over to the left side of Harleen’s bed. 

“She could be faking,” Batman said in a soft growl as he loomed over Harleen’s bed. 

“She could be, but you didn’t see her eyes Batman. I don’t think she is. I won’t know for sure until she wakes again, but I have a feeling she is suffering from amnesia--that is my preliminary diagnosis.” Thompkins glanced over the bed at him. 

Batman glared down at Harleen, his lips set in a thin line. He didn't say anything for a long time, simply stared at Harleen’s still form before he asked, “So, if she truly has memory loss, why tell me?” 

Thompkins frowned, rubbing her hands over her thighs. “I was thinking, if she truly doesn’t remember being Harley Quinn, if she doesn’t remember the Joker, maybe between the two of us we can give her another chance at a good, normal life.” Thompkins looked over at him. “Maybe give her a chance to be the woman she was supposed to be.” 

Batman looked sharply over at the doctor, his lips turned down in a frown. Thompkins folded her arms over her chest again and set her own mouth in a firm line. They stared at each other for a long few seconds before Batman spoke. 

“What do you propose Lee?” he asked, his voice betraying nothing. 

Thompkins pressed her lips tightly together before she answered. “Once we learn what she does and doesn’t remember, once we know for sure if she really has forgotten her alternate personality of Harley Quinn, then we encourage Dr. Harleen Quinzel to come back…” Dr. Thompkins was clearly formulating her plan as she spoke. “Maybe we can encourage her to be Dr. Harleen Quinzel again, set her up in an apartment, maybe...maybe get her old job back at Arkham Asylum…” 

Batman growled and said, “Dr. Thompkins, this is insane…” 

“Yes, but what if we can save her? What if we can make it as if she was never under Joker’s influence??” Lee’s eyes were bright with the possibility of saving Harleen. 

“I don’t know...what if she runs into Joker again?” Batman asked, but Lee was warming even more to her plan. “Harleen will be the same person, but not the same person--her life will be different because of us. Maybe you could have an influence in her life as Bruce Wayne too? She never had that before…” Lee looked hopeful. “We can be her support system, her friends.” 

Batman didn’t look happy, but Lee could see in the set of his jaw that he was giving her proposal real thought. She tried one more time, one more thing that she knew would push Batman...Bruce to help Harleen. She glanced at the closed door then back at him. “You could save her Bruce,” she whispered. “You could be the one to save her.” 

Batman clenched his jaw, unclenched it, then clenched it again. “Fine--what do you propose?” 

Lee tried not to smile. “We set her up in an apartment, make sure she has no contact with anything or anyone that has to do with Harley Quinn, get her old job back, and maybe we can set her on a path that even the Joker can’t steer her away from.” 

Batman’s cowl creaked as he ground his teeth, flexed his jaw. There were so many things about this plan that could go wrong. It was crazy of them to even try, but she had a point. If Dr. Qunizel no longer remembered her life as Harley Quinn, why not give her a chance to be Dr. Harleen Quinzel again? But this time, he and Thompkins could be there for Quinzel so that she didn’t fall into Joker’s trap again. 

Batman growled to himself, but reluctantly muttered. “All right. Contact me when you know for sure about her memory and we can go from there.” 

Lee smiled then whispered, “Thank you Bruce.” 

Batman had turned to leave, but he stopped, not looking over his shoulder as he whispered just loud enough for the doctor to hear, “Don’t thank me yet.” 

* 

Harleen’s eyes opened slowly. She thought seriously about not opening her eyes at all because every part of her ached. She had the sense that she was on some sort of painkillers because her head felt dulled and fuzzy and her limbs felt a little, heavy which made her wonder how bad she would feel if she wasn’t on medication. 

Still she decided that keeping her eyes closed for a little longer wouldn’t hurt anything. Her mind felt fuzzy and dull. She felt so sleepy and also very confused. Her head felt as if there was a wall inside it, a barrier that was blocking out some of ther thoughts. She instinctively knew that there were secrets behind this mental wall that she couldn’t reach. 

As she laid still letting herself become more fully conscious, Harleen was sure she was in a hospital bed. She could hear the dull beeping of monitors, felt the tape on her arm that held an IV in place. And there was that weird sterile death smell that all hospitals had that made her nostrils itch. 

Laying still in her hospital bed taking stock of herself, Harleen realized that she didn’t know what day it was...or even what year? How had she had gotten here and how long she had been here in the hospital? 

Frowning Harleen tried to focus on what she did remember: she was a doctor of psychiatry, she remembered being in college. She had just recently gotten her dream job of working at the well-known Arkham Asylum in Gotham. In fact she had been looking forward to her first day...but something happened...she couldn’t remember what it was... 

Harleen tried to focus on her apartment. What did her apartment look like? Did she have an office at Arkham? What did that look like? Did she have a boyfriend? She could remember the faces of her parents, but she couldn’t remember if she had friends. There was a nagging feeling in her gut that told her there was so much more to her life that she wasn’t seeing, but whatever it was, it was hidden behind the barrier in her mind. 

Frustrated tears began to leak from under her eyelashes. Why couldn't she remember?! 

She heard the door to her room open, followed by footsteps. Someone moved close to her bed. Harleen opened her eyes slowly to see an attractive woman with long, dark hair, and a trim figure standing beside her bed wearing a doctor’s coat and holding a clipboard where she was taking notes. 

The woman was reading the monitors then glanced over at her. Her eyes widened and a smile instantly came to her face. 

“Hello Harleen, how are you feeling?” 

Harleen spoke, but her voice was rough and small. “Where am I?” 

“You’re at Gotham General--you had a nasty car accident. You’ve been unconscious since yesterday. I was beginning to worry you had done more than simply bump your head. You think you’re up to answering a few questions?” The woman’s smile looked kind as were her eyes. 

“Can I have some water?” Harleen asked, to which the woman laughed. “Oh gosh, yes of course.” The woman set her clipboard down as she hurried over to the other side of the room. Harleen heard the sound of running water and soon the woman was back holding a small paper cup to her lips. “Here--drink this. If you’re feeling up to it, I’ll get you some juice later.” The woman smiled kindly at Harleen again. 

The water felt cold and pleasant on Harleen’s dried lips. She sipped slowly, her head swimming with the effort of holding it up to drink. She laid back down with a sigh of relief. “Thank you.” 

The woman put the cup aside. “Ready to answer some questions?” 

Harleen nodded. 

* 

Batman stood on the edge of one of Gotham City’s many gargoyles that commonly decorated the buildings when he heard the soft beep indicating he had an incoming message from an ally, one of the few to have a direct link to him that didn’t travel through Alfred first. 

He touched the communicator in his cowl near his ear. “Batman.” 

“Batman, it’s me Lee. Harleen is awake.” Lee sounded excited. 

“Well?” Batman asked, his voice flat. 

“It’s just as I suspected, she doesn’t remember anything beyond her name and knowing she had just gotten a job at Arkham. She remembers going to college, but the rest is fuzzy. Everything to do with her romance with the Joker and her life as Harley Quinn seems to be gone,” Lee said in a rush 

Batman was quiet, but Lee added, “We can do this.” 

Batman grinned then said softly. “I’ll come see her in the morning.” 

Lee grinned when she hung up the phone. She knew she had won. 

* 

The next morning Harleen was feeling much better. Her head still hurt, but her thoughts were slowly becoming clearer. She still couldn't remember much of anything other than a few details of her life. The barrier in her mind still stood no matter how many times she threw herself against it. She had the odd feeling that whatever was behind that barrier was of vital importance to her, but concentrating on it too hard only made her stomach churn and her head pound with an intense migraine that felt as if it pounded in time to the beat of her heart...Dr. Thompkins said she would probably have migraines for a while, but with the proper medication, plenty of rest and getting back to a normal life, they should fade. Harleen certainly hoped so. 

At least her appetite was all right Harleen thought with a grin as she dug into her rubbery scrambled eggs and sipped her orange juice. 

She was just finishing off her breakfast when there was a knock at her door followed by the door opening a crack. 

“Are you presentable for visitors?” a warm masculine voice asked followed by the presentation of a dozen yellow roses. 

“Ah, yes?” Harleen frowned as the door opened the rest of the way and the man who belonged to the voice entered the room. He was tall with broad shoulders, wearing a tailored navy blue suit, his dark hair slicked back to highlight the square jaw and fine features of the handsome man who entered her room carrying the roses. 

Harleen blinked. She knew exactly who the man was, Bruce Wayne, the richest man in Gotham City, perhaps in the top ten wealthiest people in the world. 

Bruce smiled at her, showing off his perfect dental work. “How are you feeling Harleen?” 

Harleen pulled her blanket up, suddenly feeling naked in her hospital gown. “Uh...I’m better…” She frowned then asked in confusion, “You’re Bruce Wayne right?” 

Bruce was shocked to see Harleen looking so pale and vulnerable. She also looked young, very young with her hair down around her shoulders, no makeup, no costume, no crazed smile on her face or manic gleam in her eyes. Right now she just looked like a pretty, injured woman, not the violent madwoman he knew who had fallen head over heels in love with a psychotic clown. 

His jaw twitched just a little. So she remembered who Bruce Wayne was...he decided to press her a little and see what she did. “Yes, Dr. Thompkins said there was an issue with your memory, but I had hoped I had made enough of an impression that you would remember me, especially after that nice dinner we had a few days ago.” 

Harleen looked confused before she smiled in apology. “Sorry...I don’t.” 

Bruce walked over with the roses. “Well, I guess this just means we get to renew our friendship.” 

He looked around for something to put the roses in, but found nothing so he laid them on the table beside her bed. 

“We’re friends?” Harleen sounded incredulous. There was something about that statement that didn’t sound right, but she wasn’t sure why. Why would Bruce Wayne have reason to lie to her? 

Bruce nodded as he pulled a chair over and sat by her bedside. “We are.” He smiled. “I got you an apartment in one of my apartment buildings--do you remember that?” 

Harleen shook her head. “How long have we known each other?” 

“Several years.” He smiled and reached out to take her good hand. That wasn’t a lie technically, he told himself as he held her hand. He had known her a few years now since she had become the Joker’s lover and partner. 

“Are we dating?” Harleen asked in a whispered voice filled with stunned apprehension, her blue eyes wide in almost comical fashion. 

Bruce laughed lightly. “No, no we’re just friends, very good friends.” 

Harleen sighed in relief. A tight knot of worry had been tightening her in her chest at the thought that she and Bruce Wayne had been dating and she didn't remember. She wasn’t sure why she should feel so apprehensive about that. Dating an attractive, rich man like Bruce Wayne should be a pleasure, but something about the idea repulsed her. Maybe she just saw him as a brother figure? That had to be it she told herself. 

“So, the doctor tells me they are going to release you in a couple of days,” Bruce said with a smile and released her hand to sit back in the chair. 

“Yeah...except I don’t...” She blushed, running her fingers over the cast on her arm with embarrassment. “I don’t remember where I live.” 

“Well, that’s another reason I’m here Harleen, not just to check on you, but to let you know I have your apartment all ready for you. I made sure everything was clean, and I made sure the fridge was stocked.” He smiled. “Maybe I can bring you dinner for your first night home?” 

Harleen smiled and sighed with relief; tension had been building in her shoulders. She didn’t remember anything about this apartment that Bruce was talking about and the thought of being alone in a strange place made her feel nauseous. Granted, she didn’t remember Bruce, but she could feel it in her gut that she did in fact know him and knew him fairly well even if she couldn’t remember any of their time together. 

“I also spoke to your bosses at Arkham and they say as soon as you’re well enough, you can start at your new position,” Bruce said with a smile. 

Harleen blinked in surprise. “They held my position for me?” 

Bruce nodded. “Yes, your accident happened on your way to work on your first day...do you remember the accident?” 

Harleen closed her eyes trying to focus on the accident. There were flashes, spinning images, the loud sound of metal being torn, a man in the road, a man with green hair and the intense feeling that something had been horribly wrong. Her eyes stung with tears, but Bruce’s voice brought her back. 

“Harleen, you all right?” 

Bruce reached up and wiped a tear from her cheek as Harleen opened her eyes. “I...I don’t remember anything from that day,” she whispered, sniffing as more tears rolled down her cheeks. All she could really remember was a sense of loss. Deep, profound lost. 

Bruce smiled and wiped another tear away. “Hey, it’s okay, don’t focus on it. That accident is your past. You need to focus on your future okay?” 

Harleen sniffed again and nodded. “Yeah...okay.” 

Bruce smiled at her again and Harleen smiled back. 

* 

A few days later Harleen was finally allowed to leave the hospital. She still didn’t remember any details beyond a fuzzy recollection of being accepted as an Arkham Asylum doctor, but she was healing physically. Dr. Thompkins herself was wheeling Harleen out of the hospital to be picked up by Bruce. Bruce had brought her some clothes from her closet, at least that was what he had told her; a pair of light blue cropped pants, some white sneakers with a matching baby blue blouse with puffy short sleeves. The entire outfit didn’t feel right to Harleen, as if she was wearing a costume. The clothing and shoes felt brand new, not like something she had lived in, but she supposed everything would feel weird after wearing a hospital gown for over a week...and having lost your memory. Even her hair felt wrong. One of the nurses had brushed her hair out and had taken a hair clip, pulling back just a section on the top of her head and pinning it back from her face. Harleen didn’t know what it was that felt wrong about her hair, but she said nothing since she couldn’t find the words to say exactly what was wrong. 

Dr. Thompkins leaned close as she pushed Harleen outside. Bruce was picking her up in the back of the hospital which Harleen supposed was because he was Bruce Wayne; someone like him would like privacy from prying eyes. 

“Don’t you worry Harleen, this is the start of a whole new life for you.” The doctor smiled when Harleen glanced sideways at her. “You get to start over with a clean slate,” Lee added. “A lot of people would love the opportunity.” 

“I suppose,” Harleen said softly fingering her cast. She still couldn't put into words how nothing about her felt right, how she felt so out of place. She had hoped getting her belongings back from her car accident would help jog her memory only to discover that all she had on her was a small, simple looking brown purse that looked too new. The purse had contained some mints, a travel size packet of Kleenex, some basic lip gloss, a compact of powder, and a simple matching brown wallet that also felt too new. Inside the wallet was her driver’s license and her work ID for Arkham and a few dollars. There was only one picture of her with her family, two credit cards, and nothing else. The purse and wallet could have belonged to anyone. She only hoped the feeling of being off would go away once she started to settle back into her life. As a doctor herself, she knew that her memory could return or it might never come back--that thought made her breath hitch. 

Dr. Thompkins pushed the handicap access button and the glass doors opened for her to wheel Harleen outside. Harleen’s eyes widened in surprise when she saw the car waiting for her. She immediately knew what the car was, a dark mahogany brown Bentley Mulsanne EWB. (She didn’t know why she knew what the car was but she did.) Waiting by the car stood a tall, slender gentleman with a receding hairline and an impressive mustache dressed in what Harleen thought of as a traditional butler's outfit from all those English period movies. The man smiled when he saw her. 

“Dr. Quinzel, delighted to see you looking well again.” The man bowed his head slightly and opened the back door of the Bentley. Inside Harleen could see Bruce sitting in a tailored dark grey suit, sitting on what looked to be plush leather seats holding out a flute glass to her. 

“I got champagne to celebrate!” Bruce glanced over at Dr. Thompkins. “I promise to only let her have a little.” 

Dr. Thompkins grinned. “Good.” She looked down at Harleen. “You ready?” 

Harleen wanted to say no, but instead she nodded. “Yes.” Her voice sounded so small to her ears. She felt a little like Alice in Wonderland in which everything felt so peculiar. 

Harleen stood up, and with Dr. Thompkins holding her broken arm carefully while the older man took her other arm, she slid into the car next to Bruce who smiled at her. “Don’t worry Harleen, I’ll be here to help you with anything you need.” 

He handed the glass of champagne to her. “But today you need to just be happy because you survived your accident and you get to start a new life--in more ways than one.” 

Harleen nodded taking the glass. The feeling that something was off only grew a little more as Dr. Thompkins smiled as the older English man closed her door. She just couldn’t shake the feeling that she was falling deeper down the rabbit hole. 

* 

Bruce smiled at her and clicked his glass against hers. “How are you feeling?” he asked with a smile before taking a sip of his drink. 

Harleen took a sip from her glass; the alcohol tasted good. She gave Bruce a faint smile and shrugged. “I feel all right,” she said hesitantly. “The dizziness is a little better as long as I don’t whip my head around.” 

Bruce took another sip of his drink. “Good, good. You rest for as long as you need, your job is waiting for you as soon as you are ready.” 

Harleen sipped again at the champagne. “Actually I would like to get back to work as soon as I can. I’m hoping that getting back to some normalcy might help me with my memory.” She frowned. “I looked at my purse, but there was nothing there that jogged my memory. I remember going to school, I remember my parents, but…” She sighed, her shoulders drooping. 

Bruce reached over and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, don’t push yourself. It’s going to be fine Harleen.” He gave her an encouraging smile. “Maybe you should focus on making new memories.” Feeling eyes on him ,Bruce glanced up to see Alfred giving him a hard stare in the rearview. Bruce knew that Alfred wasn’t happy about this plan. The older man felt that the entire thing was going to do more damage to Harley Quinn--Harleen Quinzel--than help. Alfred was also of the opinion that Joker’s and Harley’s love was too strong a connection, that they would find each other again. He had also warned Bruce that once Joker heard that Harleen was back at Arkham, he would do everything in his power to get to her. 

Bruce thought otherwise. He believed now as Dr. Thompkins did, they had an opportunity here to steer Harleen Quinzel back onto the right path. They had a chance to protect her from the Joker and a life of crime. He knew that Alfred was partly right, however. He didn’t doubt that Joker would try to get to Harleen. Bruce was just hoping that by the time Joker made his presence known in whatever chaotic fashion he would be planning, maybe he could stop Harleen from falling in love with the clown again. He knew he would have to keep Joker from breaking into Arkham Asylum to get the young psychiatrist, but if the Joker committed a crime and got himself caught, he wouldn’t be able to keep the clown out of the asylum. No judge would send the clown to prison (not after last time) and he would end up in Arkham again, but this time Harleen had not just Batman on her side, she had Bruce Wayne and Dr. Thompkins. This time Harleen had protection. 

* 

The Wayne Apartment complex was far nicer than Harleen thought she would be living in. For some reason she thought she would be in a small apartment in one of the bad neighborhoods of Gotham City, but this was a luxury apartment that she knew she couldn’t afford--certainly not as a fresh graduate with a new job. 

When they got out of the car and stood looking up at the apartment (it ended up having a doorman!) Harleen looked over at Bruce with wide eyes. “I can’t possibly live here,” she whispered incredulously. 

Bruce smiled, his hand resting lightly against her back. “This is my building. I got you an apartment here, rent free.” 

“Why?” Harleen looked confused, but Bruce just smiled at her. “Like I said, we’re friends--good friends.” 

Harleen paled. “Friends with benefits?” 

Bruce laughed. “I promise you Harleen, it’s nothing like that. We’re close, but we’re not dating. I wasn’t lying before.” 

Harleen let out a sigh of relief. “Okay, but we must be really good friends.” 

Bruce smiled and started to lead her inside. Harleen walked with a slight limp from her hip injury, but she was healing quickly. (She had refused the use of a cane.) As they passed, the doorman nodded to them both. Bruce returned the nod as he walked past with Alfred behind them. 

He kept a hand lightly on Harleen’s back murmuring. “We are best friends.” 

“I’m sorry I don’t remember any of it, anything of us being…” Harleen sighed as they stepped in, her eyes going wide. The lobby of the apartment was all high class luxury, white and black marble with a pretty young woman standing at the desk in a uniform. 

She smiled and called out. “Good afternoon Mr. Wayne, Dr. Quinzel. We are so happy to see you back.” 

Harleen gave the young woman a weak smile. “Ah, thank you.” 

Bruce kept a light touch against her back as he led her to the elevators. “Now, let’s get you settled in, we can have lunch, and then you can rest.” 

Harleen nodded and let Bruce lead her. 

Her apartment was on the twelfth floor. The hall had thick oriental carpeting and the walls were decorated with real oil paintings. Her apartment was at the end of the hall. Bruce opened the door for her and held it open for her. 

Harleen stepped in slowly, clutching her purse to her chest with her good arm. She sucked in a startled breath. The apartment looked amazing with a large living room that had a vaulted ceiling and a picture window that looked out onto Gotham City. Everything in the apartment was done in warm browns and amber from the furniture to the carpet. She thought the place looked beautiful. It reminded her more of a display apartment than one that someone lived in; it didn’t feel like anyone had ever lived here. 

Harleen walked around her with her mouth slightly open trying to take in the details and trying to remember at the same time. There was a soft yellow wood coffee table that she walked past, which sat in front of a brown couch that looked only barely broken in. The table in front of the couch was littered with Psychology Now magazines, along with a couple of fashion magazines, and a large coffee table book of landscape photos. She reached down and lightly touched the book before she frowned and looked around the room. There were pictures on the walls, fancy photos of landscapes, all very nice, but no personal pictures she noticed. There was a large flat screen television, a really lovely kitchen with a breakfast bar, and brown and gold marble countertops. 

While Bruce waited in the living room (Alfred waited outside) Harleen headed down the hall to look at the bathroom. The bathroom was big for an apartment and was equipped with a whirlpool tub and a separate shower. The walls were in light grey brick with a matching floor and soft grey towels. 

Harleen frowned looking at the bathroom. Nothing looked familiar--not the shampoo in the shower or the soap on the counter. She sighed and stepped out, heading farther down the hall to the bedroom. 

The bedroom had thick blue-grey carpet, there were windows on one wall that spanned the full length of the wall, framed with long black curtains. The bed was a large king-size bed with a midnight blue comforter with moon designs on it, and several pillows lay over it. The walls were bare of art, though she saw another TV, an off-white vanity with a three sided mirror that had makeup and perfume littered across it, but again, no pictures. Harleen dropped her purse onto the bed and walked over to the vanity to pick up one of the perfume bottles, sniffing at it, but even the scent didn’t seem familiar. 

Harleen went to the closet and pulled it open. The closet was a huge walk-in--another room all by itself--with a wall of shoes, all conservative but very nice heels, with a couple of higher heeled dress shoes in simple black or blue. All her clothing was made up of simple blouses of different colors and pencil skirts. There were a few sundresses in yellows and baby blues, some capris, a few simple, plain t-shirts and two evening dresses, a short, stylish black dress that would fit close to her skin, and a dark blue floor length dress with a fitted bodice and flowing skirt. 

But as Harleen picked up a shoe and looked at it and the other articles of clothing and shoes, nothing came to her. Nothing in the room felt familiar, nothing in the apartment felt like hers. 

Harleen licked her lips and headed back out to where Bruce was on the phone. 

He looked over to her, smiling as he ended his call. “I just got off the phone with Dr. Arkham. He said you can come back at any time and they’ve arranged for you to have some sessions with Dr. Anne Carver to help you with your memory.” 

Harleen nodded frowning. “That would be nice.” 

Bruce frowned at her before he hurried over and took her hands. “Harleen--you okay?” 

“Yeah just…” She sniffed looking up at him. “Nothing looks familiar.” 

He smiled reaching up to brush her tears with his fingers in a gentle caress. “It’s all right. Just focus on making new memories Harleen. The old ones will come back in time.” 

She nodded, then asked in a small voice. “Do you think I could go back to Arkham tomorrow?” 

Bruce pressed his lips together. His first response was to tell her no, she shouldn’t go back yet, but the look of absolute desolation in Harleen’s expression broke his heart. This was hard for her and it was hard for him, harder than he thought it would be. 

Frowning, Bruce mentally raced over the arrangements he had made with the asylum as Batman. Harleen was to be kept away from any of the patients who knew who she really was, which meant none of the costumed villains would be allowed to have interactions with her. Arkham and Strange had agreed to give her their run-of-the-mill patients to work with and to monitor her closely. Dr. Anne Carver was a good friend of Dr. Thompkins and had agreed to help them with their plan, though she wasn’t very pleased with the idea of manipulating someone. Though after a lot of convincing Dr. Carver was convinced that letting Harleen Quinzel become Harley Quinn again was something none of them wanted. 

Letting her back into Arkham was risky, of course, but he agreed with Dr. Thompkins. If they were going to help steer her back and keep her as Dr. Quinzel, they needed to encourage her, and part of that was encouraging the young woman who had gone to Arkham to make a difference. 

Bruce sighed and nodded. “I don’t see why not. I’m sure they will have you on light duty until you feel ready, but you’re right. Maybe going back to work will be the best thing for you.” Harleen smiled at him and Bruce felt a strange flutter in his chest at the expression on her face. She was a beautiful woman who right now was lost and alone without a friend in the world. Bruce suddenly felt very protective of her just before Harleen threw her good arm around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you!!” 

Bruce blushed. 

* 

They ate a late lunch together with Bruce making sure she took her medication while telling her what he knew of her accident. He also wove stories of their friendship, though he kept the stories simple. Harleen listened intently, disappointed when nothing sparked a memory, but by the time they were done eating, Harleen was having a hard time staying awake. “

Why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll drive you to work tomorrow and I’ll pick you up. We can grab some sandwiches afterwards for dinner and we can tell each other about our days.” Bruce smiled. “Or maybe I can get Alfred to cook for us. Maybe one of his salmon dishes.” 

“Oh no, I hate fish,” Harleen said automatically then blinked as she looked at Bruce startled. 

Bruce smiled though he felt a ping of panic. 

“I...I know that...that’s something I remember!” Harleen gasped with pleasure. “I hate fish!” 

Bruce laughed. “Well then, sandwiches it is.” He stood up, picking up the remains of their lunch. “Now get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow. There should be everything you need in the kitchen for breakfast, but I’ll bring us some coffee. Sound good?” he asked with a lopsided smile as he dumped the remains of their take out into the trash can. 

“Thank you Bruce, that sounds great…” She sniffed and stood up. “Thank you for everything.” 

Bruce walked over and gave Harleen a one armed hug. “That’s what friends are for Harleen.” He squeezed her and kissed her on the top of her head. “I’ll see you tomorrow. You sleep well.” 

She smiled hugging him back with her one good arm. “You too.” 

* 

Harleen laid in her bed, the television was on, but she discovered she couldn't get any of the local channels. She had thought there might be something about her accident on the news, but she only had a handful of subscription channels and nothing else. Sighing, she picked a movie and let it play so she wouldn’t feel so lonely while she snuggled down in the strange bed. 

She hoped tomorrow would bring her something, that going to Arkham would jostle some memory, because not only did she feel lost, a stranger in a place where she shouldn’t feel so lost, but she also felt as if part of her had been cut away. She felt as if something deep inside was broken, that something was missing. Not just her memory, but something else, something vital had been ripped away from her. 

Her heart ached and it felt as if part of her soul had been taken from her. 

Harleen curled in on herself, pulling one of the pillows against her chest. She buried her face against the pillow and cried herself to sleep. 

* 

Wearing a simple blue blouse and a white pencil skirt with some simple black heels, her hair bundled up into a bun on her head, Harleen stared out the windshield as she and Bruce approached the asylum. The day was cloudy and grey with the promise of rain, but Harleen realized she liked this sort of weather, something else she remembered, even if only vaguely. 

Bruce glanced sideways at her. He had felt a weird jolt when he had seen her this morning looking almost identical to the woman he had first met at Arkham Asylum. The only thing missing from the look was her glasses. He had chosen not to include them in her apartment since he knew Harleen had worn them to cultivate a look of seriousness. This version of Harleen Quinzel would not need them. 

He smiled studying her profile. She looked so sweet and innocent with some small strands of blonde hair having come loose to frame her face. She also looked lost. Her bright blue eyes were wide, anxious as she hoped for something to jostle her memory. Part of him hated what he was doing to her, but another part of him knew that this had to be better for her than being back with that clown. 

Though a small part of him whispered: “What if you’re wrong? You know for a fact that the Joker loves her and she loves him. What if what you are doing is cruel?” Bruce pressed his lips together and pushed the thoughts away. 

When the large gates of the asylum came into view ahead of them Harleen let out a gasp. “I...I know those!!” She pointed at the gates, turning excitedly to Bruce. “I...I remember the gates!” 

Bruce smiled at her. “Good.” 

Harleen grinned biting her bottom lip in her excitement while Bruce felt a flutter of nervous butterflies in his stomach. 

He would have to be vigilant; he and the medical staff who were in on this plan. He hoped this wasn’t a bad idea bringing her here. 

* 

Bob reached up and stroked Joker’s green hair back from his face, tucking the lock back in with the rest of his har. The big man held a cup up to Joker’s lips, but the clown didn’t respond, only continued to stare at nothing, his eyes hollow and lackluster. The Clown Prince of Crime was lying on his side curled into a fetal position on the bed. He hadn’t moved since Frost and Bob had wrestled him from the street. That had been nearly a week ago and now he was wasting away, catatonic, unresponsive and Frost was worried, very worried. 

Frost stood in the doorway as Bob tried again to put the cup of water to Joker’s lips only to have the Boss not respond at all, the water simply dribbling across his pale lips. Since the accident Frost had done everything he could to find out about Harley’s condition, but it was as if she had disappeared the moment she was taken away in the ambulance. Frost couldn’t find anything about her at any of the hospitals; there was no listing for a Harley Quinn or a Harleen Quinzel. 

It was like the hospital, Gotham City itself, had swallowed her. 

Frost had even checked his network of informants at Arkham, Black Gate, and even used some of his sources to check Belle Reve, but all of them had turned into dead ends. 

Harley Quinn had vanished. 

Joker hadn’t eaten or drank during that entire time. Frost frowned and turned heading into the living room where Dr. Bradford Thorne, a slender handsome black man waited. Thorne was known to the Gotham underground as Doctor Crime. He ran the underground criminal hospital and, for certain clients, he did make personal visits, such as this one. 

“Can I see him now?” Thorne asked, lifting one dark eyebrow. 

Frost nodded. “He’s the same, hasn’t moved, won’t eat or drink, and he’s unresponsive. He just keeps staring. The only reason we can tell he’s even alive is that he blinks occasionally and he’s breathing, but shallow.” 

Dr. Thorne got to his feet, picking his bag up at the same time. “I have some equipment in the trunk of my car.” Thorne tossed Frost some keys, which Frost caught easily. “Have everything in the trunk brought up here.” 

Frost bristled for a moment. He didn’t take orders from anyone but the Boss and usually if someone tried to order him around who wasn’t the Boss, Frost put a bullet between their eyes, but Frost was worried enough about the Boss that he didn’t say anything. And he supposed the doctor knew what he was doing, needed people to listen to him in the interests of helping his patients. 

Instead of retorting, Frost hurried down the stairs, motioning for a couple of the hench people to follow him to get whatever it was Dr. Thorne needed from his trunk. 

* 

An hour later Joker was hooked up to an IV. Frost and Bob were sitting in the living room of Joker’s and Harley’s private rooms. Bob looked pale with worry. The big man’s usual jolly expression looked sad and dour. 

Thorne frowned. “I have an IV in him which will keep him alive, but…” He shook his head. “He’s gone into a deep cataontic state...I’m not sure what else I can do to help but keep his body alive.” 

Frost nodded and ran his fingers through his hair. “I understand.” 

“You need someone who can deal with him mentally.” Thorne tapped the side of his head. “Or find Harley.” 

“Yeah…” Frost sighed, rubbing his face. “I’m trying.” 

“Well, I’ll come back once a day to check on him. I’ve left a few bags of my own coma cocktail with Bob so that he can change the bag. If he doesn’t start eating in the next day or two I’ll insert a feeding tube.” Thorne stood up, picking up his bag. “That’s all I can do for now.” 

Frost stood as well. “I understand. And doctor…” 

Thorne, who had started to head to the door stopped and turned. “Yes.” 

“I trust you will not let any of this get out?” Frost’s voice was flat, his eyes hard. 

Thorne smiled and nodded. “No need to take that tone with me. Keeping my word is what keeps me alive and in business. No one will know about Joker’s condition.” 

Frost nodded. “Sorry doc…” 

Thorne smiled shaking his head. “No worries, I’m used to the threats. Keep an eye on him and let me know if anything changes...Oh and make sure to turn him, don’t want him getting bed sores.” 

Frost and Bob both nodded. 

After the doctor left, Frost collapsed again. Bob put his arm around Frost’s shoulders and yanked him close. Frost smiled sadly and leaned his head against Bob’s shoulder. 

“What are we going to do buddy?” Frost asked in a quiet voice. 

Bob didn’t respond except to squeeze Frost’s shoulder. 

After a few seconds though the big man started to cry. Frost quickly sat up and put his arms around the big man, even though they didn’t reach fully around the big man, but he pulled Bob’s head down to his chest. The big man sobs were silent, but his entire body shook. Frost frowned, blinking back his own tears as he held Bob. 

Frost swore to himself, he had to find Harley Quinn. 

* 

A few days later Bob was in the bedroom with Joker. He had just finished cleaning him and changing him into some clean clothes, a simple pair of purple sweatpants and an orange t-shirt. Joker was on his back, the IV in his arm, and now a feeding tube inserted through his nose which Dr. Thorne had come by to put in the other day. Joker kept staring at nothing, remaining unresponsive. The only response Bob or Frost had seen was the occasional tear that would run down his face the corner of one eye or the other. 

Bob sighed silently and pulled the blankets up, laying Joker’s arms across his belly and had just sat down on the side of the bed to brush Joker’s hair when the door to the bedroom was flung open. 

Frost, looking like he had run all the way here from...somewhere...was panting, his suit a mess. He was covered in sweat and his hair was a mess as well. 

His face was red as he said breathlessly to a startled Bob. “I found her!! I found Harley!! She’s at Arkham!” 

Joker blinked several times. Bob jumped, but quickly put his arms around Joker helping the clown to sit up. 

“She’s alive?” he asked, his voice rough and weak. 

Frost smiled and nodded. “She is.” 

Joker’s face split into a smile.


	2. Way Down We Go

The laugh danced through her dreams, a laugh like nothing she had ever heard before, a unique laugh that gave her goosebumps. Then there was the smile, wide smile with perfect teeth and red, blood red lips. The smile and the laugh pulled at the strings of her memories, but couldn’t quite keep a hold…

Harleen woke with a gasp, almost coming up out of the bed, tears running down her cheeks. She sat in the darkness of her room panting, her breath ragged, her hand on her throat, as a feeling of such emptiness rushed over her that she felt hollow and lost. For a moment Harleen thought about leaving, about running out into the streets and yelling, screaming for someone...except she had no idea who that someone was... 

Taking a shuddering breath, Harleen rolled onto her side, pulled her legs up into a fetal position, her face buried into the pillow, and cried herself to sleep over a loss that she didn't understand. 

* 

Still in her pajamas, Harleen stared at herself in the mirror as she sat at the vanity in her bedroom that still didn’t feel like her bedroom. 

She didn’t look...right. 

Harleen wasn’t sure, but she felt like she was looking into a funhouse mirror that was showing her only a distorted version of herself. 

Last night during dinner, Bruce had convinced her that she should dye her hair brown and she had agreed, but now that she looked at herself in the mirror she felt even less like herself. The weird thing was he had made a phone call and just like that, a beautician had showed up at the apartment to do her hair. Bruce had explained her last night that she had talked about dying her hair brown before the accident, that it had been part of her plan to change her looks, to be taken more seriously as a doctor. Harleen ran her fingers through her hair and frowned. Part of her didn’t believe that this had been her idea. Something in her gut kept telling her this wasn’t her, but Bruce had been taking care of her, driving her to work the last two days, having lunch with her, picking her up from work, having dinner with her...she still couldn’t believe that they had been only friends before the accident because a lot of this stuff he was doing for her seemed like the sort of thing a person would do for someone they cared about as more than friends. 

Or for someone being controlled. 

Harleen sighed, dismissing that thought as she dropped her hand from her hair. Bruce had been nothing but kind to her, providing her an apartment, taking her to work, making sure she had everything she needed. She knew it had to be hard for him since she didn’t remember anything about their lives before the accident. He had told her the only reason he didn’t sit her down and simply lay her life out before her was because Dr. Thompkins had thought it better if the memories came back on their own instead of Harleen forcing herself to try to remember. 

Except Harleen couldn't help the nagging feel in her gut that a big part of her was missing, and not just because she couldn’t remember it. 

Harleen also kept trying to get rid of the nagging feeling that she was a little like a kept woman. She had no money of her own yet. When she had asked about a bank account Bruce had told her that she had just been keeping cash on her or investing her money into his company because of a bad experience at a bank, except he didn’t elaborate. Even if that was true, it didn’t explain why she had no cash of her own, but she didn’t pursue it. 

She still felt too fragile, too confused and so lost. She didn’t feel ready to push about things that seemed off to her only because she felt everything was off. Nothing felt right. She knew it just had to be that she was missing so much of her life, but… 

She sighed and reached for a brush, started to put her hair up in a bun. 

Work was about the same. It had only been two days and nothing had really jostled her memory yet, not that she had the ability to wander the halls of the asylum to try to see if anything shook loose. The asylum itself felt familiar, there was a cloying feeling that she knew this place well, intimately so. She supposed that would make sense since she worked here, but the feeling seemed like something more. In a way, Harleen supposed she was something of a patient at Arkham Asylum, as well as a psychiatrist. 

The work she was given kept her mostly in her office, which did feel familiar. She knew she had spent time here. Except when she searched the office, she had found nothing personal, nothing that told her anything more about herself, just framed pictures of her degrees and lots of books on psychiatry and psychology, no photos of her and Bruce, or anyone else for that matter. No novels, no notepads with scribbles--everything had been organized and clean. It made her feel a little like she was in some sort of weird alternate reality. 

Harleen had felt a deep sense of disappointment, in both the lack of anything to jog her memory and she was beginning to think she had to be the most boring person on the planet!! There wasn’t even a silly calendar with stupid inspirational sayings or kittens! What kind of monster didn’t have a kitten or puppy calendar in their office? 

Someone who took themselves too seriously, that’s who! It was as if she had no personality at all!! 

It was like her apartment, in which nothing there screamed personality. It was as if Harleen Quinzel was a one-dimensional, cardboard cutout of a person with no likes and dislikes, no opinions, nothing but work and a lot of boring clothes. 

Harleen was beginning to think that maybe it was good she had amnesia because Harleen Quinzel had been such a boring person. 

Most of her work time was spent filing, organizing files for patients, and making sure that patients' medication lists matched up from what they told the asylum to what the hospitals or doctors sent them, mundane, boring work. The weird part was that her office computer didn’t have internet access. She had tried a couple of times, but there was no internet, just a local area network for the asylum and even then, her access was heavily restricted, which she supposed shouldn’t surprise her since her memory was shot; could she be trusted with sensitive files? Probably not for a while yet. 

She had a few interactions with the other doctors, but even then those conversations were fairly neutral. No one asked her about her accident or how she was feeling and Harleen found it difficult to try to bring up the subject of her memory, especially when she was sure she knew some of these people. She felt that something on the tip of her tongue or just out of reach of her thoughts when she looked at some of Arkham staff. It didn’t help that they all treated her as if she were a fragile doll. And one or two of the staff even looked afraid, but she thought they were just being overly worried for her, the fragile amnesiac. Maybe after she became more comfortable with her new self, they would be more comfortable too. Then maybe she could start asking questions about her time here at Arkham and try to piece her memory back together. 

Still, Harleen was beginning to feel a bit herded and controlled. 

After fixing her hair in a simple bun at the back of her neck, Harleen put on her makeup. She applied her foundation and powder before she reached for her eyeshadow. She picked up the palette and stopped, staring at the colors. Up in the right hand corner were shades of red and black. She stared at the colors for a long time before she slowly reached for them like she was under a spell. Looking back in the mirror Harleen applied red eyeshadow to one eye, then slowly added the black to the other eye. She stared at her reflection, tilting her head to the side. Something about the colors felt like...a part of her, as if they were speaking to her. She put the makeup down and reached out slowly to the mirror with the tips of her fingers. Snatching her hand back, frowning in confusion, Harleen quickly looked through her lipsticks finding the darkest red she could and slowly applied the color to her lips before staring at herself in the mirror again. She tilted her head one way, then the other before she smiled, a smile that showed all her teeth. 

Something in her quivered, she felt on the edge of knowing something. Her eyes blurred with tears… 

She heard a knock at the door of her apartment followed by the sound of Bruce’s voice. “Harleen?? I brought breakfast! I got these egg sandwiches at this little place down the street that I heard are really good.” 

Harleen grabbed a couple of makeup remover wipes and swiftly wiped her face clean. Sniffing back her tears, she quickly started to reapply her makeup as she called out. “I’m in my bedroom putting on my makeup!! Be right there!” 

Bruce called back. “Hurry--don’t want these to get cold!” 

* 

Wearing a brown pencil skirt with matching dark gold blouse, Harleen bit into her sandwich with a groan, and spoke around the huge bite in her mouth as they rode along in the back of Bruce’s car. “This is sooo good!” 

Bruce was dressed in a dark blue suit that brought out his eyes, laughed as he took took a smaller bite of his own. “They are. My ward Tim Drake recommended the place to me weeks ago, but this morning I thought I would finally try it.” 

“I could eat this morning, noon, and night!” Harleen laughed, taking another large bite. 

Bruce smiled and reached out to brush his fingers along her hair just over her ear. “I like your hair. That color really suits you.” He was glad he had gotten her to agree to the dye job. Taking away her blonde hair greatly reduced the chances of anyone seeing her for who she really had been. The conservative clothing and the brown hair acted as a disguise, hiding her in plain sight so that no one saw who she really was. 

Harleen blushed and swallowed. “Thanks.” 

They were both quiet for a few moments before Harleen asked, “Bruce, do you think I could have a phone? I would like to call my parents, maybe we could find my old phone information? I had to have other friends right?” She looked over at him, her eyes wide and earnest. 

Bruce felt his chest tighten. “Well, I’ve spoken with your parents. They are understandably worried, but they understand that you need to work on your memory, to rebuild your life, but I was thinking about flying them out here next month after you’re a little more stable.” He smiled reaching out to take her hand. 

Harleen didn’t look happy, but she nodded. Bruce wondered how much time he had before she really started to push back against him, until she started to really question everything. Bruce’s eyes went to the rear view mirror where Alfred--who was driving--looked back at him. The older man did not approve of any of this. He had warned Bruce that he was crossing a line, that he was manipulating Harleen in a way that was cruel. Maybe Alfred was right, but Bruce had to see if he could prevent her from becoming Harley Quinn. 

He had to try. 

Bruce pressed his lips together holding back a sigh, breaking his gaze with Alfred. He actually had called her parents, speaking to them as Harleen’s friend Bruce Wayne. He didn't mention the accident though, but had called to feel them out on whether they would be willing to help with their daughter’s rehabilitation only to learn that they didn’t completely know about their daughter’s other life. Bruce thought they suspected, but they also seemed content that their daughter was married and happy. 

Bruce had decided not to bring them into Harleen’s rehabilitation. They would mention Joker, or if he asked them not to mention the clown, he would then have to explain in detail about their daughter’s life as Harley Quinn. He didn’t want to do that if there was a chance he would give her back to them as she had been before she had met Joker. Besides, this plan had too many moving parts as it was. Harleen had to have access to the rest of Arkham’s staff--at least a limited number--and thankfully they were willing to play along. It helped that this only included the doctors and a small handful of others that included a couple of nurses, orderlies, and guards. Thankfully the staff at Arkham had a high turnover rate, so the number of people who knew Dr. Harleen Quinzel as Harley Quinn was small, manageable, and now that he had gotten Harleen to dye her hair, the chances of her being recognized was smaller still. 

It wasn’t impossible that someone would know who she really was, but the chances had been reduced. 

“We can see about getting you a phone by the end of the week.” Bruce reached over and gave her knee a squeeze even as his mind turned over how he could avoid letting her contact the outside world until he was sure that Harley Quinn was, in fact, gone. 

He decided to change the subject giving her knee another squeeze. “I thought tonight we might have dinner at this new Italian restaurant I just bought.” 

Harleen’s eyes lit up. “Oh really? That sounds nice!” 

Bruce smiled at her. “You can wear one of your evening dresses or I could pick you up something new?” 

Harleen giggled then asked softly. “Maybe something in red?” 

“I’ll see what I can do.” Bruce reached up and stroked her cheek. 

* 

After Bruce had dropped Harleen off for work, he immediately got on the phone with Dr. Thompkins. 

Lee picked up immediately. “Bruce, is everything all right?” 

“Yes, but Harleen is beginning to ask about going out, about having a phone...I need a way to keep her more...compliant.” Bruce took a deep breath. “I need her to not question me or her situation. I was also wondering if we shouldn’t put her on antipsychotic drugs as a preventative measure.” 

He glanced up to see Alfred giving him a narrow eyed look, his mouth downturned into a deep scowl. Bruce ignored him, focusing on Lee’s voice. 

“I should have thought of that...mm. Well, I can give you a prescription to the antipsychotics she usually was given when she’s been in Arkham, maybe some sleeping pills...give me a moment. I want to look something up.” Bruce heard Dr. Thompkins’ fingers tapping on a keyboard. 

“Let’s see…” He could hear her muttering under her breath before she said, “I can’t give you a prescription for this, not in the quantities you would need, but there’s a drug called scopolamine; with the right dose the drug makes someone susceptible to suggestion, like a child, but it can also make someone zombie-like. You have to be careful with it, but...” 

Bruce murmured, “Scopolamine...I know that name…” He frowned in thought for a moment before it came to him. A report he had read months ago, Wayne Pharmaceuticals was working with the drug in combating alzheimers. “I know where I can get some…enough to do what we need,” Bruce said softly. 

“Really?” Lee asked, then said a little more softly. “You’ll need to be careful with the dose Bruce. You don’t want her unable to do anything…” 

“Can you help me with the dosage?” he asked. 

Dr. Thompkins readily replied, “Yes of course, but it will be experimental and Bruce, you think this is necessary? Drugging her? I mean...” He could hear the swallow she made. “That’s taking this wholly another step.” 

Bruce nodded without looking at Alfred. “I do. We can’t let her know who she was Dr. Thompkins, we can’t let her have access to anything that would let her find out who she had been--not yet anyway. We’ve started this, we need to see it through. The drugs won’t be forever, just...just until we’re sure she won’t ever remember who she was before...or at least healed enough that she will be ready to put that part of her life behind her.” Bruce felt a moment of uncertainty, maybe even feeling slightly dirty, but he told himself this was for the greater good. As Harley Quinn, Harleen had participated in some terrible crimes, she had committed murder for that clown, the Joker. Bruce was giving Harleen a chance to be free of all of that, to have a new life, to be the person she was supposed to be before she ran into that clown. He was helping her, he told himself. 

She would thank him when this was over. 

“What if she were to find out who she was and still not remember being Harley Quinn?” Lee asked. Suddenly her idea of regulating Harley Quinn didn’t feel as...righteous as it did when she came up with the idea. She was starting to feel as if she was manipulating Harleen, that she was doing the young woman a disservice, though she couldn't see how keeping her out of the hands of the murderous clown was wrong, keeping the poor young woman from a life of crime, and allowing her to live as the doctor she had so desperately wanted to be was completely wrong. Still, Lee couldn’t stake the feeling that she was doing just that--something wrong. That she was stealing something away from Harleen that wasn’t hers to take. 

Bruce shook his head. “We can’t take that chance Dr. Thompkins.” 

Lee was quiet for a long time before she murmured, “You’re right. You get a hold of the drug, I’ll tell you how much to give her.” 

Bruce nodded. “I’ll have it by this afternoon--I’ll call you then.” 

* 

Harleen smiled and sipped her coffee. 

She was in the doctor’s lounge that was down from her office. She had spent a busy morning with paperwork, busy and boring. It was amazing how doing something so boring could be so exhausting. She had come down to the lounge for her first fifteen minute break of the day and was lucky enough to find Dr. Arkham in here drinking coffee and reading a patient file. She hated to disturb, him but she needed to talk to him. 

“Dr. Arkham?” Harleen walked over to his table at the end of the room. 

Dr. Arkham looked up, his glasses having slid down to the end of his nose. “Hello Dr. Quinzel.” 

“Hi, ah...Dr. Arkham, can I speak with you?” Harleen asked shyly. 

Arkham frowned just a little, then motioned at the chair across from him. 

Harleen eagerly pulled out the chair and sat down. 

“So what can I help you with Dr. Quinzel?” Arkham smiled at her. He wasn’t an unattractive man, just a little, washed out Harleen thought, lacking color. For a moment she saw a flash of greens and purples that quickly faded. 

Frowning, she shook her head slightly. “I was wondering when I could work with patients? I know I’ve only been back a couple of days and I’m still not remembering things, but I haven’t forgotten any of the education...” She trailed off looking from Arkham back down to her coffee in its paper cup. “It’s just...I feel like a glorified secretary.” Arkham smiled and nodded. “I understand Dr. Quinzel. Let me see what I can do, I don’t think it would hurt for you to work with a handful of patients, but if Dr. Strange agrees I think just a couple of simple cases to start…” 

“Really?” Harleen looked back at him hopefully. 

Arkham smiled. “Yes. I don’t see why we should let one of our best doctors waste her skills on paperwork. I’ll speak with Strange and I’ll let you know after lunch, but don’t get your hopes up. You have just returned to us after a horrible accident…” 

Harleen stood up, nodding vigorously. “Of course, of course I understand. Thank you Dr. Arkham.” 

He smiled, turning his attention back to his file. “No need Dr. Quinzel.” 

He glanced up again as Harleen hurried out of the lounge, a smile on his lips. He hadn’t been sure of Batman’s suggestion of trying to rehabilitate Harley Quinn, but with Bruce Wayne backing the project and with Dr. Quinzel clearly remembering nothing about her life of crime, Arkham found the project tantalizing. This would make a fascinating paper for a journal as well, might even earn him accolades in the intellectual circles. 

He would speak with Strange, but he didn’t see the harm in letting Dr. Quinzel work with a few of their more mundane patients. It would probably be good for her. 

* 

That evening when Bruce arrived, Harleen was nearly vibrating with excitement. She was waiting for him outside when he arrived and nearly threw herself at the car when Alfred got out to open the door for her, though she stopped long enough to give Alfred a happy kiss on the cheek that made the older man blush. 

Tossing herself into the back seat, Harleen burst out. “Guess what!!” 

Bruce looked amused. “Ah...what?” 

“Tomorrow I get to work with patients again!” Harleen squealed and clapped her hands. 

Bruce schooled his features into a smile. “Really?” 

Harleen nodded. “I spoke with Arkham during break and he said he would speak to Dr. Strange. Anyway they agreed to let me work with just a couple of patients and to start letting me move around the asylum a little more, with a guard of course, just for my protection since my memory is all…” She twirled a finger by the side of her head, crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue, causing Bruce to chuckle. “...and the patients aren’t going to be anything really difficult, just some of the calmer, more stable patients, but I don’t have to do paperwork all day!! Oh and Arkham wants me to have a Dr. Adeline Chen shadow me for at least a couple of weeks, but…” She bounced in her seat. “...it’s a start!” 

Bruce let out a silent sigh of relief. Dr. Adeline Chen was new, having only been at the asylum for a few months or more. As far as he knew, Chen knew nothing about Harleen’s past and the brown hair made Harleen look quite different. What he did know about Dr. Chen was that she had a single mindedness when it came to work and research, no social life and little interest in anything outside of her research into addiction and its link to the mind. He had read her papers that she had published, as he did for all the doctors that worked at Arkham. Their paper topics always gave 

Batman an incite into the doctors as people. 

“Well then, I guess it’s good that we are going out to dinner tonight.” Bruce smiled. “We have a lot to celebrate!” 

Harleen giggled with pleasure. 

* 

Later that evening as she showered and dressed, Harleen slipped into the little black dress she had found in her closet on her first night back (Bruce had said he hadn't found any red dresses he liked ). She had her brown hair down, lightly curled, and one side pinned back with a glittery diamond clip. The brown hair still bothered her, she decided. She looked so...odd. 

She sighed and headed out into the living room where Bruce was waiting for her. 

The moment she walked into the room, he stood up and let out a startled gasp. 

Harleen cringed. “That bad?” 

“No, no no no...that good,” Bruce whispered. He really was impressed with how gorgeous she looked. He had always been aware that Harleen Quinzel was a beautiful woman, but seeing her now, like this, so different from what he was used to, her brown hair, the modest makeup, and the simple dress… 

He shook himself, then smiled. “Ready?” 

He put his arm out to her. Harleen giggled and took his arm. 

* 

The Italian restaurant that Bruce took her to was the fanciest place (besides her own apartment) that Harleen had even been to--or recalled ever being to. They were seated the moment that Bruce Wayne approached the maitre d. She noticed people looking over at them, but no one stared, thank goodness, Harleen thought in relief. She didn’t know if she could get through dinner with the thought of people staring and judging her for being with Bruce Wayne. That was something she did remember, that Bruce was Gotham’s Golden Boy. 

They were seated and Bruce quickly placed a wine order after the waiter had given them their menus. “So feel free to get anything you want--this is my treat,” Bruce offered as he picked up his menu. 

Harleen chuckled. “Right now my entire life if your treat since you’re paying for everything.” 

Bruce frowned at her. “No, don’t think of it that way. I’m your friend, I consider you a dear friend and I’m simply helping you out. You would do the same for me. Besides, you’ll be on your own two feet in no time.” Bruce turned his attention to the menu, but his heart was beating quickly. He had acquired the drug this afternoon, and only hours ago Dr. Thompkins had dished out several packets of the stuff, hopefully in the right dosages. 

Bruce hoped he wouldn’t have to use this much, but… 

It wasn’t long before they were both enjoying a meal of spaghetti and meatballs along with some freshly made ravioli and meat sauce. At one point, Bruce had reached for Harleen’s wine glass and with a little sleight of hand, keeping her distracted with talking, he slipped the first dose of the drug into her red wine. When he handed the glass back to Harleen he watched her as she took a sip. He kept his eyes on her until she finished the drink. 

He watched as the drug slowly took effect during their meal. He first noted the way her shoulders slumped a little, followed by her pupils becoming dilated. When she smiled at him, Bruce noted the relaxed quality of her features. 

“Harleen, would you like to go home?” Bruce asked, leaning toward her a little. 

Harleen grinned at him. “Yeah, I would. I’m really tired.” 

Bruce smiled and nodded. “I think that’s a good idea.” He decided to test the waters. “Do you agree with me about you not having a phone right now, that you really don’t need one because I’ll take care of everything?” He tensed, waiting for her response. 

“Yeah, yeah that’s fine. I trust you Bruce.” Harleen continued to grin. 

“So, am I your best friend?” he asked to which Harleen giggled. “You’re my best friend, of course I trust you.” This was followed by a wide yawn. 

Bruce smiled and stood up. “Let’s go then.” 

He reached out with his hand, which Harleen took, her posture completely relaxed. She only tilted to the side once, but Bruce caught her arm and held her close to them. 

This wasn’t a great solution, but it was only temporary Bruce kept reminding himself. 

* 

It was late in the evening and the man who sat in the chair in the middle of the room decorated with circus and clown memorabilia looked terrified even though he wasn’t tied up. No weapons were trained upon him, but across from him, on the edge of a beat up couch, sat the Joker. 

The Joker looked thin, gaunt. There were shadows around his eyes that only added to his sinister aspect as leaned his elbows on his knees, the fingers of both hands steepled together while he studied the man in front of him. 

Joker wore only a pair of black slacks with green suspenders, but nothing else. He was shirtless, which showed even more shockingly the weight he had lost, his thinness giving an illusion of too-long, skeletal arms. His feet were bare giving him an almost vulnerable look, but the man in the chair, one Jackie Ortin--former inmate at Blackgate, and now janitor at Arkham and informant to Jonny Frost--wasn’t fooled by the Joker’s seeming vulnerability. He knew the clown could kill him easily and would, for any reason that flitted through his insane mind. Jackie just hoped the information he had would save him. 

Joker rubbed his pale, red lips together. They were not as bright as usual, almost bloodless, but his eyes were bright and feverish. 

Jonny nodded at Jackie. “Just tell us what you heard and what you saw over the last two days, including this morning, every detail you can remember. Anything could be important.” 

Jackie looked at Frost, then the big bald man in the black tutu who sat next to Joker rubbing a hand up and down the Joker’s pale back before turning his pale grey eyes on Joker. 

Swallowing nervously Jackie said softly, “Well first, there’s this whole area of the asylum we’re not allowed in. Only a couple of janitors are allowed over there now. I mean, there ain’t much over there anyhow. A couple of offices and a supply closet and one of the smaller doctors’ lounges, but usually the only areas we ain’t allowed in are the places where they keep the really dangerous patients.” Jackie’s eyes widened after he said that and he stiffened, but the Joker didn’t respond, just kept staring at him. 

“What section is that?” Jonny asked. 

“Well, I was told by one of the other janitors it’s where Dr. Harleen Quinzel’s old office was located,” Jackie said in a hushed voice, his eyes darting from Frost to Joker. 

Joker didn’t make a sound, but his left eye twitched and his toes dug into the worn carpet on the floor. 

“Continue,” Frost said softly, encouragingly. 

“Well, I was working close to that area cleaning some toilets, and I’ll admit trying to see what was so fucking special about that area when I saw a pretty blonde in the hall just as I was passing by there. She was standing in the hall talking with Bruce Wayne.” Jackie nodded as if agreeing with himself. “I ain’t never seen Bruce Wayne there before, but I saw her leave with him too that same evening. One of the other janitors said that he’d seen Bruce Wayne there too. ‘Course, this morning when she showed up, she wasn’t blonde no more; she’d dyed her hair brown, but it was the same pretty blonde, I’m sure of it.” Jackie looked at Frost, then Joker before he said, “She looked a lot like the pictures I’ve seen of Harley Quinn in the papers, except she didn’t have any makeup on and her hair was in a bun and she was dressed like a doctor, but it looked like her.” 

Frost nodded. The tension in the room had become thicker. 

“Is there anything else?” Frost asked. 

Jackie shook his head. “No. She was working in her office when I left this evening, but I saw a fancy car pull up front, so I’m thinking Bruce Wayne was picking her up. From what I can gather that woman is being watched real close.” Jackie nodded. “They’re handling her like fine China.” 

Joker said nothing, but Jackie heard the clown make a growling sound in his throat. 

Frost nodded. “You can go. Call me if you learn anything new.” 

Jackie nodded at Frost then Joker before he got to his feet and hurried out of the room. 

Frost walked around from where he had been standing behind the couch and came to squat in front of Joker. “Boss?” 

Joker’s eyes, which had stared off into the space that had Jackie left, turned his face to look at Frost. The crazed look was worse than what Joker’s gaze usually conveyed. The madness there was bright and frantic, obsessed in a way that Frost had never seen. He had been scared by Joker in the past, scared for him too, but this...Frost felt a cold lump of pure terror in his bones from the ice cold madness in Joker’s eyes. 

“Boss, what do you want to do? We don’t know for sure that this new doctor is her...” Frost said in a whisper. 

Joker growled in the back of his throat, and the light in his eyes flared bright. “It’s her.” 

Frost nodded and waited. He could see the gears turning behind Joker’s too-bright eyes. He exchanged a glance with Bob who frowned with worry. 

“I don’t understand why Bruce Wayne is involved though,” Frost muttered. 

Bob shrugged. 

After a few tense seconds Joker suddenly stood. “Call Penguin, I’m calling in a favor, and call Ivy too. I need to talk to her ass well. We’ll meet at the warehouse.” 

Frost stood up looking completely caught off guard. He watched Joker stalk off before glancing over at Bob. “Ivy and Penguin?” 

Bob frowned, then nodded giving Frost a hopeful smile. 

Frost shook his head. “I hope you’re right buddy.” 

* 

A couple of hours later Ivy, looking angry, stood in the large warehouse that was filled with old, discarded parade floats and other brikabrak, next to Penguin and Lark under the beam of a weak yellow light. Ivy was alone, but Penguin had brought not only Lark, but also a small handful of armed men. 

“So, the Joker asked you here?” Penguin asked with a smirk as he pulled his cigarette holder from between his lips and blew out a stream of smoke. He hadn’t blown the smoke at her, but Ivy still made a show of brushing it away. 

“Yes,” Ivy said in a tone that conveyed a great amount of irritation in just that one syllable. 

“Surprised he was able to summon you.” Penguin looked intrigued. 

“He said it involved Harley, which is the only reason I let the clown ‘summon’ me, as you put it,” Ivy said at the same time she looked down her nose at him. “What are you doing here?” 

“The clown’s calling in a favor.” Penguin took a drag off his cigarettes. “So what about Harley?” 

Ivy shook her head. “I don’t know, but I haven’t heard from her in days--several days actually--and that’s strange. Harley usually calls me at least every other day…” Ivy’s brow knitted. She hadn’t really been all that worried about Harley’s lack of contact, but now that she thought about it, it had been a while since Harley had called her. Maybe something was wrong...something very wrong since Joker had been the one to contact her, not Harley. 

Now she was really worried. 

Where was Joker? 

As if summoned by Ivy’s thoughts, she and Penguin both saw movement at the end of the shadowy aisle that quickly dissolved itself into three figures: Joker, Jonny Frost, and Bob, which was to be expected, but Ivy noted the clown didn’t have Harley with him,. Nor did he had any other members of his gang with him. 

Her blood turned cold. Something was definitely wrong. 

When Joker came into the light, stopping in front of them both, he looked sickly. The dark purple suit he wore hung on him wrong. He was always slender, lean, but never too skinny. Right now though, Ivy noted that he looked ill, with a wasted away look. Joker looked so pallid and gaunt that she would have sent him to the hospital and his eyes...the gleam of madness in them shone brightly like a fever. That made Ivy shudder. Something was definitely wrong here, but at least she could see that he wasn’t completely gone; there was still his sharp intelligence visible in his gaze. 

Penguin frowned and asked. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong with me…” Joker smiled, the expression flat and lacking his usual amusement. “My Harley is missing.” 

Ivy sucked in a startled breath, her hands coming up to her lips. “What?” 

Frost stepped forward a pace. “Harley was in a car accident. We lost track of her…” 

“WHAT?? How the fuck did she get in a car accident and then you lose her?” Ivy stepped toward Joker, hands balling into fists at her side. 

Frost put his hands up. “Look, the accident was one thing, but it happened during the day. There were witnesses and she was swarmed before we could do anything, but after that she disappeared.” 

“Disappeared.” Lark spoke up, a hitch in her voice. “What do you mean she disappeared?” 

Frost looked a little pale. “Once the ambulance took her away, we lost all trace of her. There were no records of her being brought to the hospital, nothing in the morgue, no sign of her at Blackgate or Arkham--she was just gone. It’s been well over a week since she went missing.” 

Ivy glanced at Joker and saw the way the clown slumped his shoulders slightly while Frost was talking, the way his face seemed to crumble at the mention of Harley. She felt her stomach drop out. 

They were serious. 

Harley was missing. 

That would explain the reason Joker didn’t look good, the reason he looked sickly and on the verge of a complete mental breakdown. Harley, his world, was gone. 

“Where is she then?” Ivy asked in a small voice. 

Frost took a breath through his nose before he answered. “A couple of days ago one of my old associates who works at Arkham contacted me. I had asked him to keep an eye out for anything strange going on at Arkham. Well, a few days ago a small section of the asylum was deemed off limits to most of the janitorial staff. He went to investigate and saw who he described as a pretty blonde doctor who resembled Harley Quinn except without the makeup and flashy colors, but he also told us that when he saw her later, her hair had been dyed brown…” Frost let his voice trail off. 

Ivy made a small sound of shock while Penguin shook his head. “Now what the fuck does that mean?” 

Joker growled, his voice was low and menacing. “Someone is fucking with her, that’s what that means.” 

Ivy knew the words were not true, but she felt she had to ask them anyway. “You don’t think she simply took this as a chance to leave and go back to her old life do you? What if...” Her own words choked in her throat before she finished. “...what if it isn’t her, what if Harley’s…” 

Joker’s eyes shot to her and Ivy was glad the clown didn’t have some ability to kill with a gaze, because the cold fury in his eyes would have killed her right away. 

“No. It is her,” he growled. “And there is no way Harley would leave me like that...she wouldn’t leave me…we are supposed to be together, forever, until the bitter, laughable end...” His voice broke a little and Ivy could see the raw pain in his eyes. She felt for him. The Joker was a lot of things, but she knew he loved Harley--probably in an obsessive way--but still, he loved Harley and would do anything for her. Being away from her, not knowing if she was all right, was killing him. Literally. 

She watched the pain in his eyes fade back and the fury returned. “No...someone has done something to her. I don’t know what, but...this isn’t Harley.” Joker swallowed then looked at Penguin and Ivy. 

“I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’m sure Batman is behind it and I’m willing to bet the Batass doesn’t want me anywhere near Harley. And to top it all off, for some reason Bruce Wayne is helping him.” Joker smiled, and the smile caused Penguin to take a step back. 

Frost quickly added when he saw the confused expressions on Penguin’s and Ivy’s faces. “She’s been seen in the company of Bruce Wayne.” 

Ivy frowned, thinking to herself that was odd. What did Bruce Wayne have to do with Harley Quinn? 

Joker continued, his voice laced with rage. “I figure anything I do to get Batman’s attention won’t be enough, and the cops might not respond to me doing something, instead wanting to wait for Batman to deal with me, or he’ll find a way to make sure he doesn’t have to take me to Arkham. Keep me in lock up at Blackgate for a while, or...something...anything just to keep me away from Harley, but if I do something big enough, flashy enough, destructive enough that it draws all of Gotham’s attention, he won’t have a choice.” His smile grew a little wider. “Hell, might not even be him that arrests me! We just have to make sure that the press is well aware of where to have their cameras pointed…” He chuckled, but the sound was without humor. “Once I’m in there, I will get to Harley. She might be drugged, which is where you come in Ivy. If I can’t snap her out of whatever is happening to her, you are the third best chemist I know…” 

Ivy huffed. “Third?” 

Joker grinned at her and continued. “...and you have an emotional tie to Harley too. I may need your help in snapping her out of whatever has been done to her...that’s the only reason I can think of her not coming home...drugged...or...” He suddenly looked fragile. “...or she doesn’t remember me…” 

The haunted look that came over Joker’s face physically hurt Ivy to look at. Even Penguin looked uncomfortable. 

He pointed at Ivy. “I need your help to get into Arkham, and I need you in Arkham with me.” 

Ivy looked surprised, but waited. “I don’t know what’s going on with her, but I want to be sure we can bring her around and that might require you and your little plant toxins.” He looked hard at Ivy. None of Joker’s characteristic humor showed in his gaze; he was serious. 

Ivy frowned, but knew he was right. Harley was her only friend, the one person who kept her connected to her human side, fragile as that might be. She loved Harley like a little sister, and while she didn’t always understand or approve of Harley’s decisions, she loved her all the same. Joker was right. They stood a better chance with the two of them, especially going into Arkham blind about what they were going to find. 

“All right, I’ll help you,” Ivy said with a nod. She didn’t like the idea of letting herself be dragged back to Arkham, but she would help Harley in any way that she could, and that would be to get Harley back to Joker. 

The Penguin frowned. “Where do I come in?” 

Joker smiled. “You are my other guarantee to get out of Arkham with Harley...and Ivy,” he added with a wink at Ivy, which showed a bit of the old Joker humor. She simply smiled in response, but said nothing. 

Joker pressed his blood drained lips together in a small smile and continued. “I need a sure way to get out with Harley and Ivy, an escape that Batman can’t fuck up. I’m not going to want to waste time or play around once I have her and if Frost’s little informant is correct and she’s being watched so carefully, once we move to leave, we are going to have to do it fast.” 

Penguin nodded with a slight frown. “Difficult. You are going to have to do most of the escape on your end, but I have my own little birds inside the asylum.” He nodded more firmly. “Yes, I can do this.” 

Joker’s smile spread across his face, a sinister, but determined smile. 

“Good, let’s make a plan that will fuck up Batman’s day.” His laughter started low then built up into something that made both Ivy and Penguin’s blood run cold.


	3. Parade

For the last four days Harleen had been seeing a few patients at Arkham. She couldn’t see them without supervision from Dr. Adeline Chen, but it was a start. The patients were the boring garden variety suicidal depression ants, she had one guy who was addicted to porn, and a young woman who believed that the ghost of her best friend followed her everywhere. The ghost girl was interesting, but the rest were...boring. 

Harleen wanted to help her patients, but she also very much wanted to do something more interesting. 

She looked across the table at Bruce. They were having dinner in her apartment again, but this time Alfred had cooked for them. The butler had made chicken and mushroom puff pie and Harleen thought it tasted delicious. Reaching over to pick up her glass of wine, Harleen took a sip as she looked across the table at Bruce. He looked handsome, and more at ease than usual having removed his suit jacket along with his tie. He had even rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. He had just been telling her about some new acquisition that Wayne Enterprises had made. 

“So…enough about my day.” Bruce picked up his own glass of wine. “How was your day?” 

Harleen took a large sip of her wine. “It was all right--busy, a little boring.” She smiled across the small table at Bruce. “Not to sound arrogant, but I just feel like these aren’t exactly the types of patients I should be working with. And...I was thinking this afternoon…” She took another sip of her wine as Bruce gazed at her with a smile before she set her glass aside. Alfred came in with their dessert, a banoffee pie. 

Her voice held a note of excitement as Harleen smiled and said softly, “I though of something that might be interesting to work on.” She looked across the table at Bruce with a broadening smile. “I was thinking I would like to write a book…” 

Bruce frowned, his dark brows coming together. “A book? About what?” 

“Well, I was hoping that maybe Dr. Strange or Dr. Arkham might let me see some of Arkham’s more extreme cases. See, I had this idea about writing a book about Gotham’s criminals. I was looking through a few files and…” 

Bruce slammed his glass down on the table, some of the wine sloshing out onto the table. “What? How did you have access to files other than your own?” 

Harleen jerked in shock at Bruce’s reaction. “I...I uh...I saw them on Dr. Chen’s desk when she ran out for a moment. I just thumbed through them, but I didn’t actually read them or take them. Dr. Chen had a file on a Dr. Johnathan Crane and the other was about a man named Jervis Tetch who thinks he’s the Mad Hatter from the Alice in Wonderland stories...Anyway, the files just...well...they gave me an idea for writing a book.” She didn’t add that seeing those names had also triggered a feeling of deja vu, as if she had known those names from sometime in the past and when she had seen their pictures, that nagging feeling of deja vu had become stronger. 

Bruce growled, his fist coming down on the table. “NO!” 

Harleen jumped again and Alfred had stopped moving as he turned to look at Bruce with wide eyes. 

“What?” Harleen’s voice was a shocked whisper. 

“I said no,” Bruce said again. This time his voice was calmer, but it held a stern edge to it, as if he was just barely keeping his anger in check. “You need to focus on healing, you don’t need to be writing a book, Harleen, especially on those types of people. You…” He frowned and sighed. His shoulders, which had gone stiff deflated, and his tone softened. “I’m sorry Harleen, I just want you to get better. I want you to be the person you are meant to be and I am beginning to think that Arkham Asylum is not really the place for that. I was actually considering asking you to come work for my company instead of staying at Arkham. I just don’t feel like that environment is good for you right now, being around all those unstable patients…” 

“I only see four patients and none of them are unstable exactly,” Harleen snapped back glaring at him. 

Bruce took a steadying breath through his nose. “Yes, but...I just…” He gave her a warm smile. “I just want what’s best for you Harleen.” 

Harleen frowned at him. She felt angry, on the edge of fury. “Maybe you should ask me what I think is best for me?” 

Bruce stood up, picked up his chair, and moved to set his chair right next to her. (Alfred quickly retreated to the small kitchen with the pie.) Bruce took her hands in his, gently rubbing his thumbs over her knuckles. 

“I’m sorry Harleen. It’s just that...” He sighed, continuing to gently caress her knuckles, his gaze on her hands. “...I almost lost you, I don’t want that to happen again.” 

Harleen frowned as Bruce looked up at her. “You are a special person Harleen, I just want the best for you and Arkham might not be what will help you be the best you, do you understand?” 

Harleen rubbed her lips together. Her emotions were a twisted mix of anger, resentment, fear, and confusion. “I...I guess I do…” 

He brought her hands up to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “Why don’t we just focus on that right now, on you getting better? Then maybe later we could talk about your book idea, all right?” 

Harleen frowned. She still felt angry and hurt, but she nodded. “Yeah...yes I suppose.” 

Bruce smiled at her, holding her hands to his lips again. “Thank you Harleen. I’m sorry about my outburst.” 

Harleen nodded swallowing. “It’s fine.” 

Bruce released her hands, reaching up to cup the side of her face. “Let’s have dessert. Alfred worked hard on that pie and we don’t want to upset him or I’ll hear about it for the next few days.” 

Harleen smiled and chuckled softly. “Yeah...fine, you’re right. Don’t want to upset Alfred.” 

Bruce smiled and stood, but not before leaning over to kiss her on the cheek. Harleen blushed, her eyes widening in surprise before she looked down at her hands. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the kiss, but she was willing to let the topic of her book or leaving Arkham go for now. But she didn’t want to leave Arkham. Her gut told her that would be a bad idea. If she left Arkham Asylum, Harleen was sure she would lose something she could never get back, even if she didn’t know what that something was that she didn’t want to lose. 

And the thought of working at Wayne Enterprises made her feel as if she might be losing what little freedom she had right now. She didn’t want to feel that way, like a prisoner because Bruce was taking care of her, doing everything he could to make things easier for her. He cared about her and he was the only friend she had at the moment, but… 

But… 

* 

When Bruce had left Harleen’s apartment for the night, he had left her with some of the drugs that Dr. Thompkins has given him mixed within the contents of a sleepy time tea for her to drink before bed. He would have preferred to stay until she drank the drug to make sure she actually drank the mixture, but he couldn’t without looking suspicious and he was doing his best to not lead Harleen on...But it was hard because his own feelings about her were becoming complicated. 

He had decided not to drug her at dinner. Hell, he hadn’t used the drug in the last four days because Harleen had been busy, focused on work and because he only wanted to use the drug when he felt he had no choice. She had not said or done anything that made him think she was remembering anything of her past, that she was slipping back to her old self, but when she brought up the book Bruce had felt his blood go cold with panic. That was why Dr. Quinzel had been at Arkham in the first place...that damn book she had wanted to write. He remembered her talking about it with him as Batman when she had first started working with Joker. She had mentioned it because she had asked him about letting her interview him for the book, maybe even sitting down for a session or two with Batman. 

Bruce rubbed his thumb over the nail of his forefinger as he worried. What if she was remembering… 

He sighed looking out the window as Alfred drove. He just couldn’t lose Harleen Quinzel to her past. 

After a few seconds he could feel the weight of Alfred’s stare on him and looked up to meet the older man’s gaze in the rearview. “What?” Bruce asked, his tone a little short. 

“Your behavior at dinner Master Bruce...you need to be careful with that young lady,” Alfred stated with clear disapproval. “You are going to hurt her--she is delicate. You shouldn’t have gotten angry and you shouldn't have kissed her cheek.” 

Bruce wanted to snap back at Alfred that he didn’t understand, but he refrained from saying anything because he knew Alfred was right. 

“And I thought you were not going to use that...drug on her unless there was no choice,” Alfred added, causing Bruce to sigh again. 

“Yes, Alfred, but you heard her. She was talking about a book! You know that was what the original Dr. Quinzel was at Arkham for…” Bruce growled, but Alfred interrupted him. 

“She is still the original Dr. Harleen Qunizel Master Bruce,” Alfred pointed out. 

Bruce rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Yes, I know...this experiment is just…” 

“...unethical?” Alfred offered which earned him a glare from Bruce. 

“We are trying to help her Alfred, rehabilitate her, to let her be the Dr. Harleen Quinzel she was meant to be, not the Harley Quinn she became…” 

“But is it really rehabilitation when the young woman isn’t actually participating in her recovery?” Alfred added. 

Bruce frowned at him and Alfred sighed, turning his gaze back to the road and focused on driving, but he added. “You need to be careful of your own feelings too Master Bruce. You are becoming attached to her.” Alfred’s eyes shot up to the rearview mirror. “You’re developing feelings for her. Are you sure that is something you want to do?” 

“What do you mean?” Bruce asked grumpily. 

Alfred’s eyes moved back to the road as he took a breath through his nose. “Kissing her on the cheek? Besides, I know you Master Bruce; I can see that you like her.” 

Bruce sighed and glared out the window again just as it started to sprinkle a few drops of rain. “I do like her. She’s intelligent, funny, and sweet. What’s not to like about her?” 

“She’s also a high functioning psychopath,” Alfred added, but Bruce shook his head. 

“No, Joker made her that way.” 

“Did he? Or did she fall in love with a man who simply brought out what was already there?” Alfred asked before adding to the sharp look Bruce gave him. “I like the young woman Master Bruce, don’t misunderstand me, but I want you to be careful for both your sakes. Who she was isn’t gone. She just can’t find that version of herself right now...and all of your preparations and plans doesn’t mean Harley Quinn won’t come back.” 

Bruce frowned at Alfred’s reflection before he turned away and glared out the window again at the drops of rain. 

* 

Harleen showered, but she didn’t put on her pajamas. She felt restless and even though she told Bruce she was all right she wasn’t. She had been excited by her idea of a book. She would get to work on some interesting cases and flex her brain more than what she was doing now, and who knew how much? But now she felt depressed, deflated, and angry. Bruce hadn’t even really listened to her! 

He had simply said no to her, treated her as if she was a child! 

Knowing she was too restless to sleep and that she needed a walk, Harleen went through her drawers and closets until she found some pink capri sweatpants, a dark green t-shirt, and a matching hoodie. She quickly slipped on some socks and tennis shoes and headed out of her apartment, the first time since the accident she had gone anywhere without an escort of some sort. In the elevator Harleen pushed the button to go down to the ground floor, her heart hammering hard. She felt like a bad kid, sneaking out of the house, a mix of fear and excitement warring in her chest. She bounced on the balls of her feet until the elevator opened on the first floor. Harleen did her best to walk calmly out of the elevator and not sprint with jo,y but as she turned into the lobby she noticed that not only did the employees at the desk turn to look at her, but there were two guards at the door, plus the one just outside the door acting as doorman. All of them--every last one of them--turned to look at her. 

The next thing that Harleen noticed was that there were no other residents to be seen. Not that not seeing your neighbors was something weird or anything, this was Gotham and people didn’t go around introducing themselves, but she only now realized she had never seen any of the other people that lived in this building, and she would have thought she might see someone in the lobby. 

Even though she might not find that unusual, her gut told her that something was off. 

Ignoring that feeling for the moment, Harlen headed to the front doors only to have one of the guards step in front of her. 

“Evening Dr Quinzel, can I help you?” The man was young, probably no older than her, handsome she supposed with that boy-next door look that she didn’t find attractive at all. 

“I thought I would just go for a little walk.” Harleen smiled and started to move around him, but the guard shifted to stand in front of her. “It just started raining Dr. Quinzel.” 

“I don’t mind a little rain,” she said and started to move again, but the other guard, a man who looked older than the one blocking her, stepped in front of her and said in a soft, but firm voice. 

“That isn't a very good idea Dr. Quinzel.” 

Harleen frowned at the two men. “Fine, I’ll go get an umbrella.” 

The younger man shook his head. “Sorry Dr. Quinzel, but Mr. Wayne told us to keep an eye on you. He doesn’t want you out walking alone in your condition.” He glanced at the other man who nodded. “Shall I escort you back to your apartment?” 

Harleen blinked in shock. “Look, I just want to take a walk around the block…” 

The older guard frowned and moved forward forcing Harleen back. “I’m sorry Dr. Quinzel, but we’re under orders from Mr. Wayne to keep you safe.” 

“So...you’re not going to allow me to leave?” Harleen asked in shock. 

The older guard nodded. “Sorry Dr. Quinzel. Shall I escort you back…” 

“No! I can find my own way back,” She growled, stamping her foot before spinning around and stomping back to the elevators. 

She could feel everyone's eyes on her as she walked. She was going to have words with Bruce. 

* 

Frost hurried up the stairs to the Boss’s and Miss Quinn’s private rooms, taking the steps two at a time. He had just heard back from his mole, his plant within Arkham Asylum. The man’s name was Mitch and he was an ex-drug runner who had become an informant for Frost when he was still part of the Gotham police force. Mitch stayed as an informant once Frost had become part of Joker’s gang, continuing to do work on the side such as now when Frost had asked Mitch to get into Arkham and report back anything he could learn about Harley Quinn. 

When he got to the top of the stairs Frost knocked. 

There was no answer. 

He knocked again. 

Still no answer. 

Finally Frost opened the door and stepped inside. 

The room was mostly dark except for a light shining from the Boss’s bedroom, the door of which was partially open. Frost frowned as he made his way to the bedroom. As he approached the doorway, he could hear music playing softly, Frank Sinatra he thought. After a couple of seconds he even recognized the song, “Always.” He cringed at that. The Boss wasn’t doing well at all. He was awake and had a plan, but Frost was worried the Boss wouldn’t be able to pull it off in his current condition. 

Frost stopped at the bedroom doorway as the music drifted through the apartment and knocked lightly on the doorframe. 

When Frost heard no answer, he waited a moment and decided to step in. He saw Joker sitting on the side of the bed wearing only a pair of orange boxers with little rubber duckies all over them and nothing else. The pale man was staring at a picture of Harley and him that he held in his hands. Frost frowned as he looked at the Boss, who still looked too thin and his white skin had a greyish cast to it that Frost didn’t like. 

“Boss?” Frost spoke softly. “I got some news from Mitch about Miss Quinn.” 

Joker’s head shot up. His eyes were bloodshot which made the blue stand out in startling contrast to his pale skin. 

Frost frowned. “Well, according to Mitch she’s being monitored. She’s kept to one area of the asylum and only sees patients under supervision. She has no visitors at work except Bruce Wayne. Bruce Wayne picks her up from work every evening, and brings her to the asylum every morning. Mitch tried to follow them one night after work, but lost track of them once they entered Gotham. Mitch says he can’t be certain, but he felt that they deliberately lost him. Bruce Wayne may not know he’s being watched, but he certainly had his driver act like he was…” 

Joker stared at Frost for a long moment, silent, so Frost continued. “Mitch headed over to Wayne Manor, but found no sign of Ms. Quinn, though he said he couldn’t do much. That place is locked tighter than Blackgate, but when Bruce Wayne returned later that night he was alone.” 

Joker ground out the name. “Bruce Wayne? Bruce Wayne has her?” 

Frost frowned. “I don’t know if he has her Boss, but he does have something to do with whatever is going on with her. We could try and pick him up…” 

“No...no...Harley first. She’s in Arkham, that’s where I need to go...that’s where we met…” His voice became low and tense. “If she doesn’t remember anything, that will spark her memory…” He turned his attention back to the picture in his hand and dragged his fingertips over the picture. “She has to...then we’ll take care of Wayne and Batman...together.” 

The laugh that issued from Joker’s mouth was low and eerie, giving Frost goosebumps. 

* 

Joker grinned at his reflection in the mirror. He was still looking a little gaunt, light grey shadows haunted his eyes, and his cheeks looked sharp and dark. His eyes were a dull shade of blue and his smile had a manic glint to it that made him look wilder, crazier than usual. He had his hair slicked back, his lips were a bloody red that flowed pass his lips to his cheeks that made Joker’s smile look even wider than usual. He was wearing a tailored dark purple tails jacket with a dark blue vest, dark gold dress shirt with a dark blue tie that was tied in a bow, and a bright, neon pink carnation in his lapel. The pants he had on were checkered in blues, greens, and purples along with dark purple leather gloves. Joker turned one way, then the other examining his reflection before his blue eyes looked over his shoulder at Frost who was reflected in the mirror. 

Frost was dressed in his usual black suit with white shirt and red tie. Next to him stood Bob wearing a red and white striped bodysuit with a bright orange tutu and orange hightops. 

“So, what do you think of the new outfit?” Joker asked with a smile that never reached his eyes. “Bob did a fantastic job as usual.” Joker grinned at Bob who smiled with pleasure. 

“You look good Boss,” Frost said with a soft smile and a nod. 

Joker returned his eyes to his own reflection “Do you think Harley will like it?” he asked. His voice sounded hollow, a little lost to Frost. 

“Yeah, I do Boss. I think she’ll love it,” Frost said softly. 

Joker nodded before he smiled, spinning away from the mirror to grab the wide brim purple hat that matched his jacket and set it on his head. “All right boys, let’s go put on a show!” 

Frost and Bob fell into step behind Joker as he strolled from the room. 

Joker’s eyes narrowed as he hissed low, “Let’s go get my girl back.” 

* 

Poison Ivy smiled as she came to a stop just outside of the gates of one of Gotham’s biggest water treatment plants. She looked up studying the treatment plant for a moment, letting the rain wash over her. She stood there a moment, naked, letting the rain water soak into her green skin. It felt good, refreshing. 

Smiling up into the sky and the fresh rain, Ivy grinned as she turned her gaze once more to the facility before hert. She had attacked one of Gotham’s water treatment plants before in the past, though Batman had ruined her plans that time--her carefully thought out plans--but this time she was walking in here with only one plan, to cause as much destruction and chaos as possible. It was a rather freeing idea, not having a plan for conquest, or any real goal but to get captured. She didn't need to worry about plans or goals, she could just grow wild because she didn’t want to be secret or quiet. She wanted the attention. 

For a moment Ivy could see the appeal to Joker’s chaotic nature. Granted, the clown and Harley made plans, intricate, devious plans sometimes, but they also did a lot of crimes on the spur of the moment with no plan in mind and sometimes they just caused chaos with no goal at all except to be a pain in Batman’s ass. 

She chuckled softly before she put her hand out toward the gate. The weeds that had cracked through the old asphalt and pavement responded to her call. They grew and wrapped around the gate until the weeds, now thick, vicious vines, yanked the gate off its hinges. 

Ivy smiled as she walked into the plant, petting the vines as she passed. “That’s my babies. Now...let’s go have some fun!” 

As Ivy walked across the pavement, the vines followed, tearing up the asphalt and concrete, growing larger, more and more vines following Ivy as she strolled toward the main body of the facility. 

* 

Batman and Robin were at the Tricorner Docks responding to gang activity. They had just finished up, ten gang members wrapped up tight and simply waiting for the Gotham PD to respond before they took off in the Batmobile when Batman received a call from Alfred. 

“What is it?” Batman asked the moment he touched his communication device situated by his right ear. 

“Sir, check your screen in the Batmobile, any local news station,” Alfred said. 

Batman glanced at Robin who sat next to him in the vehicle. “The screen, news,” he said. 

Robin nodded with a curious frown, reached out to activate the Batmobile’s screen and quickly picked up one of Gotham’s local news broadcasts. 

The screen showed nothing but a street in the diamond district. Robin leaned closer and hit a button that increased the volume. Instantly they could hear the sound of music echoing down the streets of Gotham. Wolfmother’s “The Joker and the Thief” blared out, followed by several people dressed as clowns in bright, colorful costumes, some with plastic masks on, some with their faces painted, rushing down the street armed with guns, bats, comically huge clown hammers and other weapons, chasing pedestrians onto the sidewalk and cars to the side of the road. 

Seconds later bright lights illuminated the darkness, shining from around the corner of the building before a large balloon floated around the structure. The balloon was of a clown with white face, red lips and green hair, dressed in purple. The giant balloon was followed by an explosion of fireworks that shot up into the Gotham night sky, bursting in brilliant colors of purple, green, and red. 

Robin frowned, glancing at Batman. “Does that look like…” he started to ask, but at that very moment a float came around the corner with several armed clowns running along beside it. As the float came into view, along with some more fireworks, Robin could see a giant carousel on the float with colorful ceramic animals that spun slowly around in a circle lit by a multiplicity of colored lights on the float. 

At the front of the carousel sitting on a large purple velvet throne with a spotlight positioned right on him sat the Joker. 

Robin sat forward with a hiss. “It’s him!” 

Batman’s only response was the creaking of his cowl when he tightened his jaw. 

Behind Joker’s float came other smaller floats and more oversized clown balloons, all of them still large enough to take over the entire street and trimmed with brightly colored lights that illuminated the entire street. Running along besides the floats and balloons, dressed like elephants, monkeys, and giraffes (the giraffes had long puppet-like mouths that could be manipulated with strings and pulleys) were more of Joker’s people, all armed in some fashion either with guns or blunt weapons. Batman scowled. He knew Joker’s gang never had this many people in it, most never lasted more than one crime because Joker either killed them himself or they were captured, so these had to all be new, freshly recruited and paid gang members, the most he had ever seen the clown have at one time. Batman did a quick count. Joker had to have at least a hundred goons with him, not counting Joker’s trusted people, Frost, Bob, and Archie, and all were armed--more than enough to take over a few of Gotham’s streets. 

His jaw clenched again. 

He knew exactly what the clown was after. Joker was smart,and somehow he had to have figured out Harleen was alive. And while Batman wasn’t sure how, Joker must have found out about her amnesia...or he could be wrong and this was something else entirely, but his gut told him he wasn’t. Joker knew something even if he didn’t know everything concerning Harleen. This stunt the clown was pulling was either to get Harleen’s attention or he was hoping Batman would take him to Arkham where Dr. Quinzel was working. Batman was thankful Harleen’s apartment building was far enough away that she wouldn't see this and her communications outside the building were limited; she would never know about this parade unless someone told her. He was fairly confident that no one at Arkham Asylum would and the people he had hired as Bruce Wayne were too well vetted and too well paid to say anything. 

While Batman watched the video he tried to prevent himself from snarling. If Joker had committed a small crime, Batman might have been able to simply stop Joker, beat the pulp out of him, maybe get the clown stuck in the hospital long enough for him finishing turning Harleen back to the woman she should have been, but this...this had all of Gotham’s attention. There was no way he could avoided the clown ending up in Arkham. If he beat the clown senseless it would be broadcast everywhere and while some would rejoice, enough of Gotham would turn against him for beating the clown into a bloody pulp on the air that it would make his life difficult, with the public and the police both. 

No, he would simply have to make sure Joker never had access to Harleen...ever. Never again. Luckily Bruce Wayne had enough money to make that possible. 

Even being in Arkham, Joker was never going to lay eyes on Harleen again. Batman was going to save Harleen from the psychotic clown; Batman was going to make sure Harley Quinn was good and dead. 

Batman kept himself from smiling at the thought. between Bruce Wayne’s money and Batman, he could make sure that Joker was put in solitary confinement and he stayed there until Harleen was safe. Maybe Joker making a spectacle of himself was just what he needed, then he could make sure Joker was in a hole, away from Harleen until this was over and there was nothing of Harley Quinn left for Joker to get a hold of. 

* 

Behind Joker’s float, a colorful train float that had Bob at the front appeared. The big man was waving his arms gleefully, his tutu lit up with its own lights. Following Bob was a large, red clown car float that had several armed clowns on it, with Archie, the only clown in white, standing front and center with what looked like a t-shirt gun used at sporting events, resting on his shoulder. The crowds on the sidewalk let out yells and screams when they saw the Joker, who had stood up and started to grin, waving his arms in the air before he grabbed a purple megaphone by his throne. 

“Good EVENING Gotham!!” he yelled into the megaphone. His magnified voice easily carried over the music. 

The reluctant crowds on the sidewalk tried to run, but the armed clowns quickly put a stop to anyone trying to leave. People in their cars who tried to speed off had their tires shot or the clowns busted their windows and hauled them from their vehicles forcing them onto the sidewalks with the rest. 

The music beat against the city buildings, echoing down the street as Joker danced in front the throne, his float coming to a stop. 

All smiles, Joker yelled into the megaphone. “Hello Gotham!!! Tonight I have a gift for all of you!!” 

He was met by the sound of screams, which only made him laugh. “Yes, yes, I love you too Gotham and because I love you, I’m giving you a gift!” 

Joker motioned at Frost who hurried over with what looked like a bazooka. He handed the bazooka up to Joker even as the crowd around him panicked. 

“Get ready Gotham!!” Joker yelled as he set the bazooka on his shoulder grinning brightly. 

Batman growled as he started the big black vehicle, but when Joker shot the bazooka into the air, the only thing to come out was money. The paper money burst into the sky and came raining down on the crowd. This was followed by Archie shooting his weapon and Bob shooting off another, covering the crowds in so much money, it rained down like confetti. 

Alfred’s voice broke through the noise. “Sir, I have a report coming in from the Gotham Water Treatment facility near Coventry. It seems as if Poison Ivy has broken into the facility and it taking it over with her plants.” 

Robin, who had been watching Joker spread money to the crowd looking over at Batman, his eyes wide behind his mask. “Poison Ivy?” 

Batman ground his teeth together before he answered Alfred. “Get a hold of Nightwing. I want him on the Joker. Robin and I are going to take care of Ivy.” 

“Very good sir,” Alfred answered. 

Robin frowned with confusion. “Why are we going after Ivy instead of Joker?” 

“Because Joker wants me after him,” Batman said before he spun the car around and headed toward Coventry. “I’m not going to give that clown what he wants.” 

Robin frowned, clicking off the Batmobile’s screen. 

* 

Joker grinned as the crowd started to cheer him, gathering closer to the floats, grabbing at the money that he kept showering them in. It would only be a matter of time, minutes really, before they all realized that the money wasn’t exactly what it seemed to be, that the money was coated with a version of his Joker gas, now converted into a nice ink form, that would activate when it made contact with the skin. Nothing lethal this time...well unless someone got greedy and touched a lot of the money, or got any of it near their mouth, nose, or eyes, then it might be lethal, but otherwise the venom would turn them all into miniatures of him, smiling, pale ghosts of clowns. He was sure Batsy probably had some sort of anti-venom or whatever, but that wasn’t the point of this little exercise. The point was to have Batsy throw his pale ass in Arkham where he could get to Harley. 

Joker snickered, his eyes flashing dangerously. He could see a few news vans pulling up down the street. This was going to be broadcast on every station!! Laughing with manic glee, Joker turned his attention to the skyline. Batman had to show up sooner or later. 

His gaze followed the shadowy lines of the buildings. The extra lights coming from his parade were actually making it difficult for him to see, casting the tops of the buildings in even more shadows than before. There was no way he could hear anything either because of the music and the crowd, not that he ever could hear that stupid Batboob until he was right on him. 

Batsy was such a cheater. 

Joker pressed his lips together, continuing to scan what he could see of the skyline while his goons threw out more and more of the tainted money. 

Then he saw it, a shadow moving across the top of the buildings. 

Joker’s smile widened with pleasure as he whispered. “Come on Batsy, Batsy...let’s play…” 

* 

Ivy smiled looking around at the destruction she had caused. 

It was fun! She hated to admit she had enjoyed herself, destroying equipment, seducing the guards (all of whom, both men and women, were currently standing against the wall, all victims of her kiss, and each one ready to do her bidding.) Usually she was very calculated in her attacks with certain goals in mind, but mindless destruction did have it’s appeal. Now she just had to wait for whoever Batman sent after her because she assumed the pointy eared freak would want to go after Joker himself. 

She had just settled back on the large petals of a giant rose that she had brought to bloom when she heard movement above her. Frowning, Ivy looked up just in time to see Robin drop down. She rolled, her giant rose rolling with her, the petals folding around her, deflecting the boy’s attack. 

Robin hit the rose and bounced off. Ivy’s quick response surprised him, but he caught himself and rolled, coming to his feet just as Batman dropped down beside him. 

“Ivy!! Enough! What are you doing?” Batman demanded. 

Ivy and her flower moved out of Batman’s reach as it unfolded its petals to reveal her like a goddess sitting on the petals of the rose. She looked genuinely surprised to see him. 

“Batman?” 

“Come quietly Pamela…” Batman said, but Ivy laughed at him. 

“Since when has that ever worked Batman?” She smiled. “Why don’t you come closer and we could talk about it?” She smiled seductively. 

Batman frowned at her. “Why are you even here?” 

“Who says I need a reason Batman?” Ivy smiled sweetly and batted her eyes at him and Robin. “Maybe I just want to have a little fun.” 

Batman growled at her. “You never just want to have fun Ivy, there is always a reason for your actions.” 

Ivy smiled. “Oh Batman...silly boy.” 

She threw her arms out and vines smashed upward through the concrete floor, wrapping themselves around Batman and Robin. “Maybe I just want to play,” she purred as her vines lifted them into the air. 

* 

The shadow dropped down, landing in a crouch in front of Joker on the float before standing up slowly. 

“Oh come on!! Nightbaby??” Joker groaned loudly. “He sent you? What? I don’t even rate a personal visit anymore?” 

“It’s Nightwing clown…” Nightwing had his hands up balled into fists. “You can turn yourself in peacefully Joker or we can do this the hard way.” 

Joker smiled at Nightwing throwing his arms out. “I’m not doing anything bad.” Laughing Joker smiled. “I’m just giving the citizens of Gotham some financial relief…” Joker spread his hands out turning one way then the other so that Nightwing could see the crowd that had grown, all of them catching money from the air. “Or does Batsy not believe in giving money to the poor?” 

Nightwing narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know what your scheme is….” 

Almost as if on cue, manic laughter began to piece the air. 

Joker grinned at Nightwing as the young man looked around in his dismay. He could see the faces of the people, the citizens of Gotham who had been out in the streets grabbing at Joker’s money. Their skin was turning white, their mouths stretching into unnatural red lips, smiles, and their eyes going wide. 

Nightwing hissed as he turned back to Joker. “What’ve you done?” 

Joker grinned at the young man. There was an edge of his smile that made Nightwing shudder; the light of madness in his blue eyes made a shiver of real fear trickle down Nightwing’s back. He had faced off with the clown many times before--usually alongside Batman--but something in the pale psycho’s gaze was different this time. More sinister, and definitely unhinged. 

“Did Batsy tell you what he’s done Nightdork? I know it was him that spirited her away from me, because no one else in Gotham could have made my Harley disappear like that...no one but good old Batsy,” Joker snarled, the madness in his eyes made them almost glow. “He’s trying to steal her from me!! My wife!!” he wailed, his hands balling into fists when he shouted. “What person does that? I’ve done some terrible things…” He laughed. “But Batsy went for the heart this time...I won’t...I…” He started to shake with emotion. “I won’t forgive him for this…” 

“What are you talking about?” Nightwing hissed, only now realizing that Harley Quinn wasn’t here. He was quickly feeling something like real fear twisting in his gut as he looked at Joker. The man was always nuts, but this...this was different, far different, and far more terrifying. 

“Batman…” Joker growled. “He took Harley away from me...he’s keeping her away from me and I am going to get her back.” 

Nightwing’s eyes widened a split second too late to react before Joker plowed into him, his shoulder slamming into the younger man’s diaphragm, knocking the air from his lungs sending both of them tumbling off the float and into the street.


	4. Entering the Asylum

Batman snarled and pulled at the vines that held him, but the thick green vines only tightened their hold on him and the Boy Wonder while Ivy laughed. “Keep on fighting Batboob, those vines will continue to tighten, slowly cutting off your air and breaking bones.” She tilted her head and her thick red hair fell over her bare shoulder as she batted her eyelashes at the two of them. “Though I could give you both a more pleasant death if you want. Just one kiss and you would die, but in such bliss…” She giggled even as Batman continued to struggle. Robin didn’t seem to be moving at all. Smart boy she thought before she sighed and turned her attention to a couple of the guards she had under her sway. “Batman is always such a bore…” she muttered before hooking a finger at the guards she had under her spell. “Come here darlings…” 

The two guards, a tall, dark skinned woman with large brown eyes and a dumpy looking man with hair the color of straw, walked zombie-like over to Ivy. Even in the dim lighting of the room it was easy to see the faint green glow on their lips. 

“Now, how about the two of you pull out your guns and shoot Batman and Robin for me? Nothing fatal mind you--let’s have some fun. Maybe a bullet to a kneecap, eh?” Ivy giggled turning to look at the two captured crime fighters only to hiss with a curse. 

They were both gone. 

“God damn it!” Ivy growled slamming her fist against her thigh. “Every time!! How do they do that??!” 

Ivy dropped down from her flower throne to land lightly on her feet. The two guards she had summoned forward pulled their weapons and flanked Ivy protectively. She turned slowly around, her eyes darting around the room and up to the ceiling, looking for the crime fighters. As she searched for them, she summoned up two more thick vines that she broke off and wrapped around her wrists and forearms. The two vines embedded themselves under the skin of her forearms, becoming an extension of herself as they burrowed under her skin. These vines rapidly grew longer, extending out from her hands. All along the body of each vine, wicked looking thorns sprouted from their green surface. The sharp, evil looking thorns oozed some sort of clear liquid that slowly ran down the thorns to drip onto the floor in thick, gooey pools. The thorns littered the entire surface of the vines, extending up Ivy’s arms and over her shoulders until it looked as if she wore some sort of organic armor on her arms. 

Snarling, her green eyes on the shadowy ceiling, Ivy threw her arms up, the vines whipping up into the darkened rafters of the ceiling until they smacked against the ceiling. She whipped them back and started to move around the room slowly, whipping her arms and her weaponized vines up in the darkness, her two armed guards at her side. 

“Come on Batman!! I know you’re still in here! Don’t you want to play or are you too much of a gentleman to hit a lady?” She laughed, flinging her vines into the shadows. 

She didn’t see Batman drop down behind her because her attention was drawn to Robin who had dropped down in front of her. 

The young man gave Ivy a big smile. “Hey Ivy. So do they call you Poison Ivy because you’re toxic or because you’re an unwanted weed?” 

Ivy narrowed her eyes, smiling seductively. “Why don’t you come closer kid and let me give you a kiss, then you can make your own decision on whether I’m a rose or a weed?” 

Robin grinned at her before sticking his thumbs in his ears and sticking his tongue out at her. “Eww...gross lady. You’re old enough to be my grandmother!!” 

“What?!!” Ivy growled before she spat, “I hate kids!” 

She threw her arms out, the vines racing out from her as an extension of her arms with deadly precision. Robin did a backflip, avoiding the vines, then grabbed one before leaping over the other vine just as Ivy yanked her arms back. Robin tangled her vines for only a moment before a growling Ivy flung her arms out, then threw them forward again at the young man as he leapt and twisted out of the way. Hissing in irritation, Ivy whipped and snapped the vines at Robin who danced around, leaping and jumping out of the way like a nimble rabbit. 

“UGH!!” Ivy groaned loudly as she twisted around following him. “Why won’t you stand still?!” 

Robin laughed as he did a forward somersault avoiding her vines yet again. “Seriously? Do people stand still for you?” 

“It’s a rhetorical question!” she hissed at him while spinning around trying to catch the kid with one of her vines at the same time trying to remind herself that she wanted to get caught; this was for Harley. She wanted them to take her to Arkham, but she would be perfectly happy to handicap this obnoxious kid... 

“Ivy!” 

Ivy spun around just as Batman threw several small pellets at her. She quickly bashed the pellets away with her vine arms, but the moment she hit them, the little things exploded and filled the air in front of her with some sort of white dust. 

Ivy tried not to, but she breathed the smoky dust in almost the instant it appeared. Her eyes widened as she coughed harshly. 

“What..?” She wheezed, blinking her eyes rapidly. Her eyes started to water and she felt her skin drying out, cracking. 

“What...what is that..?” She wobbled for a moment, her arms dropping to her sides as the vine extensions began to wither and fall away. She reached up and grabbed at her throat, wheezing. “I...I can’t breathe…” 

“It’s a special weed neutralizer. I designed it with some help from a friend of yours, Dr. Jason Woodrue in exchange for a reduction on his sentence. It won’t kill you, but it will cut off your oxygen supply long enough for you to pass out…” 

Ivy looked up at him, her gaze narrowed as she struggled. “You...are such...an...ass…” She fell unconscious to the floor. The moment Ivy lost consciousness, the green that glowed on the lips of the guards faded. 

Batman hurried over to Ivy. “Robin, give them the antitoxin. I’ll secure Ivy for transport.” 

Robin grinned while pulling out the vials of antitoxin that he carried with him, thanks to Batman who was always prepared. 

* 

Nightwing’s back hit the asphalt hard, nearly knocking his breath from his lungs. He managed to keep his head from hitting, barely. Joker landed on top of him, straddling him, his knees slamming hard into the asphalt, but if Joker felt any pain, he gave no indication as he rose up, his blue eyes wild in his pale face. He had lost his hat on the way down and his normally well groomed green hair was wild, in disarray like his eyes. 

“You’re hero took my girl from me!! He took my heart...ripped her from me…” Joker growled as he grabbed Nightwing around the throat and squeezed. “What does that make him Nightboy? What kind of hero kidnaps someone, eh?” 

Nightwing choked as the clown’s grip tightened. Joker looked almost skeletal in the light from the floats, his blue eyes glowed with wild madness, and his smile peeled back from his lips in a rictus grin. Joker squeezed hard, his long fingers wrapped around Nightwing’s throat in a deadly grip. 

“How do you think Batsy would feel if I took something he loved away from him? What if I squeezed the life out of his little boy? Would it hurt him?” Joker snarled through his teeth, his eyes widening slightly, his pupils only pinpoints, lost in the blue. “I hope so. I want him to feel the pain he’s caused me…” 

Nightwing reached up between Joker’s arms and spread his forearms apart with enough force to break Joker’s hold on his throat, but when he tried to buck the clown off, Joker wouldn’t move. Joker slammed his fist into Nightwing's face, hearing the satisfying crunch of bone, and saw the young man’s head snap to the side. Hitting him again, Joker gave into the violence that had been twisting and turning in his chest from the moment he woke up and learned that Harley was alive and out of his reach. He hit Nightwing over and over again in the face, blood leaking from the kid’s nose and mouth, but then Nightwing slammed the ball of his hand upward, catching Joker under the chin with enough of an impact that Joker fell backwards. 

Nightwing bucked, knocking Joker off of him and rolled easily up to his feet. Wiping his hand across his mouth, all he tasted was blood. If Joker wanted to play rough, then they were going to play rough. Nightwing came at the clown, swinging up with his right leg. 

Joker laughed and ducked, swinging himself out of the way. Nightwing snarled through his bloody teeth. The Joker wasn’t as muscular as he was and he was older, but the pale man moved with an almost supernatural quickness. The young man rushed at Joker, leaping up and kicking. The clown blocked with his arms and ducked, spinning out of the way while laughing maniacally. 

* 

Frost had run over to the Boss, his gun out and stopped himself from shooting Nightwing. The object of this stunt was to get captured. He growled in frustration and turned to Bob who was still standing on his float. Frost made a motion with his arm--the signal. Bob nodded, turning around to face Archie and gave the smaller man the same signal. It was time for them to go and leave the Boss to the rest of the plan. 

It made Frost sick to leave Joker, but he, Bob, and Archie were integral to the rest of the plan...to the later break out. If they were caught... He gave one last look at the Boss and Nightwing who were making their way down the street fighting, each getting a few hits in on the other. The Boss, even in his weakened state, was a damn good fighter. Frost sighed and reluctantly turned away. 

* 

Nightwing spun and leveled a circle kick at Joker who ducked and weaved away, but then rose up to wrap an arm around Nighwing’s leg when the younger man threw a front thrust kick and used his entire weight to swing his opponent. Nightwing crashed into the side of the float. The impact caused his teeth to snap together and a pressure cut to open on his cheek. He quickly pulled his escrima sticks, spinning around as he rushed at Joker. He swung his sticks catching the clown in his side hard enough that Nightwing was sure he broke a rib. Joker winced, but didn’t act like he was hurt, instead laughing. 

“You know Nightboob, Batman isn’t the hero you think he is. What sort of hero does the things he does?” Joker laughed as Nightwing swiped at his legs, forcing Joker to jump back. 

Nightwing could hear the laughter of Joker’s victims around him. “You have no idea what a hero is, Joker. You hurt people for fun!” 

Joker laughed and danced out of the way of Nightwing’s furiously spinning sticks again, this time adding a little flourish to his dodges, spinning so that his coat tails flared out dramatically, clearly playing with Nightwing. “True, true, but I never pretend I’m anything other than what I am.” He smiled, throwing his arms up in the air. “I don’t pretend to be a hero, to be a good guy while I steal another man’s girl and hide her from him. I don’t rip someone’s heart out and hold it bleeding in my hands and tell myself I’m the hero! I don’t lie about who and what I am...I’m a clown!” 

Joker giggled manically. “A murderous psychotic clown! I don’t pretend to be anything else.” 

“A maniac!” Nightwing hissed to which Joker only laughed. 

Nightwing snarled and feinted a kick to Joker’s side, but snapped one of his weapons out as the clown took a half-step to the side. This time his sturdy weapon caught Joker across the face. The clown’s head snapped hard to the side, and the impact of the stick echoed through the laughing crowd. The lights caught the droplets of blood that splattered against the side of the float from Joker’s mouth. 

Joker stumbled back, his bottom lip split, blood dripping from his lips and covering his teeth. He snickered, reaching up to touch his bloody lips, looking down at the blood on the tips of his gloved fingers. “There ya go little bird...draw some blood...” Joker looked up at Nightwing. “Be like Batman and beat me bloody.” 

Nightwing was only now aware of the news cameras filming them. He cursed under his breath, but Joker laughed brightly before he swung at him. The young man almost didn’t duck in time. Joker was swift, but just as his swing missed, Joker came in with an uppercut that caught Nightwing in the center of his chest. Joker leapt up just as Nightwing, off balance, swung his sticks out at him at him again. Joker jumped up, surprisingly high, right over Nightwing’s swing. Joker’s dress shoes connected with one of the sticks, forced Nightwing’s arm down. As Joker came back down, his fist caught Nightwing square in the face. His head snapped back and he stumbled, but he kept his feet under him, his thumbs sliding up on the sticks activating the electricity built into each weapon. 

He backflipped away from Joker to land in a crouch. Joker was grinning with manic glee (or anger, Nightwing couldn’t tell with the clown) as he ran forward at the younger man, but Nightwing leapt into the air and spun, his foot snapping out to catch Joker in the face. The impact threw Joker backwards. As soon as Nightwing’s feet hit the pavement, he rushed forward thrusting out with both sticks to strike the clown in the chest. 

Bolts of electricity shot into Joker’s chest and he went rigid, his eyes widening, but his smile never wavered. Nightwing yanked his sticks back and Joker fell to the ground, unconscious. He dropped to Joker’s side, pressing his fingers against the clown’s throat. It took a few seconds, but then he felt it, a heartbeat. 

Nightwing closed his eyes, letting out a breath he hadn’t been aware he had been holding. “Fuck..thank god,” he whispered to himself. 

“NIGHTWING!! DID YOU KILL THE JOKER??” 

Nightwing spun around to see a reporter holding out a microphone, her cameraman filming behind her. 

Nightwing growled. “Call an ambulance! Call several--all these people need help! NOW!” 

Standing up, Nightwing looked down at Joker with a frown on his masked features. The clown looked unwell and where was Harley Quinn? What had he been talking about, Batman taking her? 

His frown turning into a scowl, Nightwing pulled Joker’s hands up in front of him and secured them with handcuffs. Nightwing needed to speak with Batman. 

* 

The Batmobile was parked in the shadows at the side of the asylum’s main entrance while Batman stood in front of Arkham waiting for the ambulance carrying Joker to arrive. Robin frowned looking up at him, but said nothing. It was clear that Batman wasn’t in a good mood. Not that he was ever in a good mood precisely, but right now he was in a worse mood than usual, especially when he heard that Joker was on his way to Arkham. Robin thought that was exactly what Batman should be satisfied to hear. 

They had already deposited Poison Ivy inside the special cell that Arkham kept just for Pamela Isley, cutting her off from fresh air, sunshine, and anything green. Robin was of the opinion it was a little harsh. She should be allowed some fresh air and sunshine, but it wasn’t his call and he supposed Batman and the doctors at Arkham knew best how to handle her. By the time they had her in her cell, Ivy was back to breathing normally, but it would still be a few days before she stopped feeling the effects of Batman’s toxin on her. 

Robin’s attention was on the gates of Arkham so he didn’t hear Nightwing drop down beside Batman until he was just suddenly there. It took every bit of control the younger man had not to jump when the former Robin appeared. 

Batman didn’t react at all to Nightwing’s sudden appearance except to mutter without looking over at Nightwing. “I saw your fight on the news on the way here.” His voice sounded stern. 

Robin grimaced beside him. It was clear Batman wasn’t happy with Nightwing or maybe he just wasn’t happy with any of this Robin surmised, not that he could blame him. Joker and Poison Ivy caused trouble on the same night, though Robin was surprised at how quickly both situations had been handled. He would have thought they would be at it a lot longer with two of Batman’s rogues gallery out causing trouble, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Ivy was behind bars and soon so would Joker. As far as Robin was concerned, it was a good night. 

“Not a lot I could do about it. The cameras and reporters were already there when I arrived and everyone has a camera on their phone…” He shrugged. “I mean, I know you don’t like us to be caught on camera, but Joker had made a pretty big splash with that parade, and the balloons, floats, all that money he was throwing around. It was a mess...though I’m not really sure what his goal was.” Nightwing looked a little concerned. “That toxic money could have been a lot worse than it was, I heard on the way here that there doesn’t seem to be any fatalities. The anti-toxin that the hospitals have on supply thanks to you worked, which is a godsend considering how many times that clown changes the recipe. Nearly everyone has started to recover and they are gathering all the money. I’m sure there will be more patients over the next few weeks, but this could have been a lot worse.” Nightwing frowned deeper in thought and rubbed his chin. “It was almost like he didn’t really care that much about poisoning everyone...as if there wasn’t any real goal or if there was a goal, I can’t figure it out. I know the clown is chaotic, but there is usually some reason for what he’s doing. He never just...does stuff.” Nightwing shrugged again before he turned and smiled at Robin. “Hey kid.” 

“Hi,” Robin said with a smile though his lips turned down into a small frown. He could still see traces of blood on Nightwing’s lips and nose. 

Batman growled. “What’s his condition?” 

“Last I heard, he was stable.” Nightwing turned his attention back to Batman and answered before he added with a slight trace of confusion in his voice. “There was something else that was strange about tonight...Harley Quinn wasn’t there.” Nightwing looked between Batman and Robin. 

Robin looked up with a frown. “What?” 

“Yeah, and Joker kept talking about you…” He turned his attention to Batman once more. “He kept going on about you taking her from him? About stealing his girl?” Nightwing crossed his arms over his chest looking confused. “You know what he’s talking about?” 

Batman remained silent. 

He was saved from any more questions as they all saw the lights of the ambulance cutting through the darkness. The vehicle turned up the road toward the gates while two police cruisers followed close behind, their lights on as well, but with no sirens. They waited as the ambulance drove up the lane, lights flashing brightly in the darkness. 

Once the ambulance had come to a stop in front of the asylum doors, the police in both vehicles quickly exited their vehicles, each one giving Batman and the two younger men quick nods of acknowledgement as they pulled their weapons and surrounded the ambulance. The doors were opened and the EMT’s quickly brought out the stretcher. Joker lay across it, hooked up to an IV, still unconscious. 

Robin was struck by how frail Joker looked, thinner than usual. Lying on the stretcher, the clown didn’t look dangerous at all, just a little vulnerable really, but the boy wonder knew that would all change the moment Joker opened his eyes and smiled. 

As the EMT’s rolled the stretcher toward the doors, Batman held his hand up. “Just a moment.” 

Everyone went still as Batman came over and looked down at Joker. The clown’s face had been cleaned of blood, but traces were still visible around his nostrils, some blood had soaked through the bandage on his cheek, and there was dried blood at the corners of Joker’s mouth. Batman also noted how thin the clown had become and his ghost white complexion had a definite grey undertone. Pulling back one of Joker’s eyelids to reveal a dilated pupil, Batman could see that the clown was indeed unconscious. His mind was racing, but there was nothing he could come up with that could keep Joker from entering the asylum, no excuse that wouldn’t look as if Batman was attempting to take the law into his hands more than he already did. He couldn’t cross that line without losing the support of the city and the police force. 

He looked at the EMT’s and nodded before moving along with them and the armed policemen toward the asylum as the doors opened. Waiting on the other side stood Dr. Arkham and Dr. Strange. 

Strange nodded at Batman, giving the two younger men quick glances of acknowledgement. “Batman, we received your call and have his room ready.” Strange looked at the unconscious Joker. Arkham frowned, looking from Batman and Strange to Joker’s prone form. “Shouldn’t we have him in the infirmary first? He is unconscious, having been electrocuted.” The doctor gave Nightwing a significant look which Nightwing ignored. 

“No, there is too much of a change that Dr. Quinzel would stumble upon him,” Batman growled out. 

Nightwing and Robin both exchanged a look between them at the mention of Dr. Quinzel. Arkham didn’t look happy, but Dr. Strange nodded. He motioned and several guards came forward along with some of Arkham’s staff and one of the medical doctors. Batman watched, his jaw clenched, as Joker was rolled away. The EMT’s watched the Arkham guards and orderlies take the clown away, clearly wondering if they were going to get their stretcher back. When it looked clear that they weren’t, they turned and left with the cops. 

Strange turned his attention to Batman. “Don’t worry, we’ll make sure she stays away from the clown. He’ll be in solitary the entire time. With luck, Dr. Quinzel will never even know he is here, but if she does learn about the clown, we’ll make sure she never sees him.” 

Batman nodded. “Thank you Dr. Strange.” 

Strange nodded again, turning and once more acknowledged the two younger men before he turned to leave, giving Dr. Arkham a significant look that encouraged the younger doctor to follow him. Dr. Arkham frowned, giving Batman another displeased look before he hurried off after Dr. Strange. 

Batman turned, his cape snapping behind him as he exited the asylum with Nightwing and Robin quickly following him. Once he was outside, the doors closed behind them, Nightwing grabbed Batman’s arm. “What did he mean about Dr. Quinzel? Isn’t that who Harley Quinn was before the Joker or am I missing something?” 

Batman stopped, dislodging Nightwing’s hand and turned to look at them both. “Not here.” 

Nightwing didn’t look happy, but he nodded. “Where then?” 

“Meet me at the cave in twenty.” Batman turned and walked with purpose to the Batmobile. Nightwing turned his attention to Robin. “You know what this is about?” 

Robin shook his head. “First I’ve heard of it.” 

Nightwing’s lips became a thin line before he nodded. “See you at the cave.” 

Robin nodded and hurried after Batman. Nightwing sighed in aggravation before he turned his attention back to the asylum, and jumped up, grabbing a hold of a slim purchase on the building before quickly disappearing into the shadows as he scaled the front of the asylum so quick anyone watching would have questioned whether they had really just seen a man on the building and not a shadow. 

* 

Alfred came down the stairs into the cave, carrying a tray with a pot of hot tea, three mugs, and three plates. Each plate held a sandwich that the older man knew was the favorite of one of the young men that were currently down in the cave. The butler also carried a first aid kit tucked neatly under his arm. 

Nightwing groaned, stretched his arms over his head before he flopped down in one of the chairs that sat near Batman’s computer wall. He had arrived only moments ago. 

“Man, Joker looks like a skinny clown, but the man sure can hit.” Nightwing pulled his mask off and wrinkled his nose before wincing. 

“I’m always telling you he’s more dangerous than he looks,” Batman muttered as he pulled his cowl off. 

Alfred set the tray of food and drink down. Robin nearly swarmed over the butler to get to the food. “Thanks Alfred!!” 

Alfred smiled at Tim before walking over to Dick. “Let me look at your nose, Master Dick.” 

Dick frowned, but sat up, holding still while Alfred tilted his head back and examined his nose. “I don’t believe it’s broken Master Dick,” Alfred concluded before he pulled out some wipes from the kit to clean off Dick’s face. 

Dick sat still but his eyes flicked over to Bruce who had taken the other seat by the computers, his back to them. Tim had plopped himself down on the floor as he dug greedily into his sandwich. “So, what is this with Dr. Quinzel?” 

Dick noticed that Alfred stiffened and went still. 

The air in the room seemed to grow heavier. 

Alfred glanced at Bruce once before he continued to clean the blood off of Dick’s face. 

Bruce sighed, his shoulders sagging a little before he turned around. “Harley Quinn was in a car accident several weeks ago. I don’t know the specifics of the accident, but it occurred during the day, she was alone, and not in makeup. Quinn was knocked unconscious during the accident. Dr. Lee Thompkins took care of her and quickly realized that Harley Quinn had lost her memory. She remembered being Dr. Quinzel, but all her memories after her first days at Arkham as a doctor are gone. Lee and I decided that this was an opportunity for us to steer Harleen away from ever becoming Harley Quinn. If we can control her environment, control her interactions, we are both hoping that she will never remember who she was before, and Harley Quinn will have never existed for her. She could go on to live the life she was supposed to live as Dr. Harleen Quinzel.” 

Alfred stepped back from Dick, his expression clearly one of disapproval. Tim sat on the floor, his sandwich halfway to his mouth, his eyes wide. 

It took Dick a few moments to find his voice. “I...that’s...I don’t understand how you can make her just...forget...” 

“She’s already forgotten,” Bruce growled. “I am simply helping guide her back to being Dr. Harleen Quinzel.” 

“As Batman?” Dick asked, his expression dubious. 

“No, as Bruce Wayne,” Bruce said plainly. 

Dick’s eyebrows shot up. “What?” 

Bruce frowned as he looked toward Dick. “She believes that she and Bruce Wayne are good friends. I’ve put her up in an apartment and I try to take care of anything she needs. I pick her up from work and take her to work each day, I have guards on the building where she lives, I have control of her access to the outside, and as Batman I have control over her access to the building and patients at Arkham.” 

Dick’s eyes widened as he listened to Bruce. He frowned, not saying anything for a few seconds as Alfred finished cleaning him off and applied some healing ointment to his lip and cheek. He glanced at Alfred and while the butler said nothing, he could clearly read the man’s displeasure in his eyes. 

“Bruce…” Dick turned back to Bruce after Alfred stepped aside. “This...what you’re doing...it’s…” He sighed. “...It’s unethical and cruel.” 

“Cruel?” Bruce growled. “Cruel is letting that maniacal clown dig his claws into Harleen again. He turned her from a promising professional physician into a murderer Dick. He took a kind, thoughtful young woman and turned her into a psychotic clown. Cruel would be letting her return to that. Harleen deserves better.” Bruce turned his back on Dick as he muttered, “And I’m going to make sure she gets it.” 

Dick narrowed his eyes at Bruce’s back. “Harleen?” He stood and walked over to Bruce pulling a chair over to sit beside him. “Bruce, you are acting like she didn’t have a choice. Did it ever occur to you that Dr. Quinzel fell in love with the Joker, that she chose that life for herself? That she’s a willing participant in everything the Joker does and is not...I don’t know...a toy? You’ve admitted in the past that they love each other. You may not like it, but you know it’s true.” 

Bruce didn’t look at Dick at first. “This is different. Harleen doesn’t remember that part of her life.” Bruce looked over at him. “She has a chance to have the life she deserves, that she should have had before the Joker.” 

Dick frowned as he looked at Bruce before he whispered. “You care about her.” 

“Yes. Knowing her as Harleen Quinzel...she’s different.” Bruce sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “She’s sweet, smart…” He shrugged. “I can still see Harley Quinn in her, but…” He frowned before muttering, “She’s just different now.” 

Dick shook his head. “This is a dangerous game Bruce. So many things can go wrong and you’re taking all of her choices away from her.” He tried to plead with Bruce. “You need to let her...I don’t know...go. Let her know who she is--or was. You need to let Harleen Quinzel have her choices back.” 

Bruce’s eyes snapped over to the younger man. “No.” 

Dick sighed. He knew that look in Bruce’s eyes, knew there was going to be no reasoning with him. “When she finds out, learns what you did, this is going to get bad Bruce,” Dick added. 

Bruce growled. “She won’t find out unless someone tells her.” 

Dick worried his bottom lip then said softly, “Joker isn’t going to give up trying to get to her. If he knows she’s alive Bruce, he’ll tear Gotham apart to get to her.” 

Bruce shook his head. “No he won’t. He doesn’t care, can’t care that much about her.” He frowned glaring at the computer and television screens that showed different parts of Gotham in front of him without really seeing them. “He won’t,” he said again as if to assure himself. “He doesn’t care about her that much…And he’s locked up.” 

Dick shook his head. “You didn’t see the look in his eyes. You’ve crossed a line Bruce.” 

Bruce turned and glared at Dick as he said in a stern tone, “I’m done talking about this.” 

Dick sighed and stood. “Fine.” 

He walked over and grabbed the sandwich Alfred had made for him and headed out. “I’m going home.” He smiled at Tim, giving the young man a salute and a nod to Alfred before he vanished into the shadows of the cave. 

Alfred frowned slightly watching Dick disappear before he murmured, “You should listen to him Master Bruce.” 

“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I know the Joker…” Bruce growled. “He only cares about one thing--himself.” 

Alfred shook his head, but said nothing else. 

Robin just stared between the two men and said nothing. 

* 

The next morning when Bruce came into the apartment carrying breakfast, Harleen’s now favorite egg sandwich, she was ready for him. The moment the door opened, Harleen pounced. 

“Why aren’t I allowed to leave the building?” she growled, her fists balled on her hips. She was ready for work wearing a black pencil skirt and a blue blouse that brought out her eyes. Her hair was pulled back in a Dutch braid and she had on a pair of sensible black heels along with her doctor’s coat. She had made sure she was ready to argue her point the moment he came through the door this morning. 

Bruce stopped in the doorway, his eyes widening in comical fashion as he put on an innocent look. “What?” 

“I tried to go for a walk and I wasn’t allowed to leave the building last night!” Harleen snapped at him. 

Bruce sighed, closing the door behind him. “I’m sorry Harleen, it’s for your own good. Dr. Thompkins doesn’t think it's a good idea for you to be wandering about on your own. You’re better, of course, but you still have a brain injury. There’s no telling what could happen, I mean what if you had a relapse while you were out? I’m just--I’m trying to protect you until we’re sure you are fully recovered. You’re not a prisoner Harleen, I’m just trying to look out for you.” He came over to her, opening up the bag that held her sandwich. The delicious smell caused her to relax. Harleen frowned as she thought about what Bruce had just said. She supposed that made sense. 

He smiled at her and held up the bag of egg sandwiches. “Peace offering? I promise, it's just until we get a clean bill of health from the doctor, then you can run around as much as you want.” “

Just wish you would have told me. I felt like a prisoner,” Harleen muttered as he pulled out her egg sandwich and held it out to her. Harleen pouted at him before she snatched the sandwich from him and glared, though with a smile. “You’re lucky you came with sandwiches.” 

Bruce chuckled. “I’m glad I did then. I am sorry.” 

Harleen sighed, still looking upset, but she shrugged. “I guess I understand.” 

He stepped closer and kissed her cheek. “Thank you. You ready?” 

“Yeah.” Harleen smiled, grabbing her jacket and purse before unwrapping her sandwich and taking a large bite as she headed out of her apartment. Bruce chuckled and followed her. 

* 

Bruce dropped her off at work, doing his best to keep his nerves in check. He trusted Dr. Strange and Dr. Arkham to continue to keep Harleen sequestered in her section of the asylum working with her assigned patients and with Dr. Chen supervising her, but knowing that Joker was somewhere in the asylum made Bruce feel uneasy. He would have to come and visit the clown tonight just to have a talk with him, to see what he knew, maybe get him to tell Batman his plans. Joker always enjoyed talking to Batman. 

Bruce watched as Harleen walked into the asylum with a sense of foreboding. He wished he had drugged her last night before he left, watched her to make sure she took the drugs. He would have to this evening. He couldn’t have her questioning him too much or taking too many risks like trying to leave the building again until he was sure she would never remember Harley Quinn or the Joker ever again. 

* 

Harleen yawned and stretched her arms over her head before rubbing her eyes. 

It was late afternoon and Harleen had seen all of the patients she was allowed to work with and now she was just doing paperwork. Dr. Chen had left, leaving her alone. Harleen groaned and stood up. She was getting sleepy and needed to wake herself up if she was going to finish her paperwork without falling asleep face first on her desk. The paperwork was mind numbingly boring. She picked up her doctor's coat, which she had flung over the back of her desk chair, and slipped it on as she walked out of her office. She thought she would go down to the lounge and get some coffee; that should wake her up. 

Harleen slipped into the hall and headed down to the lounge, had only gone a few steps when she heard the faint sound of voices drifting down the hall, two people she thought, speaking in whispers. That was odd, she thought with a frown. 

Instinctively Harleen slowed her steps. Something about the whispering made her want to be quiet. She frowned for a moment before she reached down and slipped her shoes off and continued down the hall barefoot, making no sound as she approached the lounge. 

She stopped just outside the door and listened. 

“Is he awake?” It was Dr. Chen. Harleen frowned at hearing the other woman’s voice. She thought Dr. Chen had left for the day. 

“Yes. He woke up early this morning.” The other voice was Dr. Arkham. 

“Has he said anything yet?” Dr. Chen asked. 

“No. He just sits and stares. It’s creepy as hell, even for him,” Dr. Arkham muttered. “Though he did let me examine him. He has a broken rib, some cuts and bruises, split lip, and of course he was electrocuted badly enough to put him out for a while, but he doesn’t seem to be any worse for wear from the fight with Nightwing. But still, he isn’t acting right.” Dr. Arkham sounded confused, but Dr. Chen laughed low. 

“It’s the Joker--he’s never right.” 

Harleen frowned and blinked. Hearing the name Joker sent the strangest jolt through her, and her heart began to race. 

“So are we leaving him in solitary the entire time?” Dr. Chen asked. 

Harleen could hear movement and the smell of coffee, freshly brewed by the scent. “Yeah. Dr. Strange has ordered he’s to stay in solitary, not to mix with any of the other patients, and as far as I know, no therapy sessions. I don’t like it...I don’t like the asylum taking orders from a vigilante.” Arkham sounded angry. 

“Why is Dr. Strange taking orders from Batman?” Dr. Chen asked softly. 

“I don’t know. I guess because he knows the Joker better than anyone and then there’s whatever it is they’re doing with Dr. Quinzel,” Arkham muttered. 

Harleen’s eyes widened in surprise. What did that mean? What they were doing to Dr. Quinzel and why would that have anything to do with this Joker person? 

Dr. Chen continued. “I heard they brought in Poison Ivy last night too.” 

Harleen heard Arkham cough before he answered. “Yes, she attacked a water treatment plant for some reason. She’s in her regular containment cell.” 

“Are they worried about Dr. Quinzel knowing about her? I mean aren't they friends...from before?” Dr. Chen asked. 

“Yes they were, but I’m not sure if Ivy is a worry or not, but just in case Dr. Strange wants us to make sure that Dr. Quinzel has no contact with either of them,” Arkham said. “I still can’t believe we are playing babysitter to her. I say let her remember and be done with it. This entire experiment is doomed to failure as far as I’m concerned.” 

“Oh I don’t know.” Dr. Chen responded. “If she can be saved, why not try?” 

Arkham simply snorted in response. 

Harleen felt a strange tickle in her brain. Poison Ivy...she knew that name too, but she couldn't remember why. And what did they mean; if she can be saved? Were they talking about her? Saving her from what? 

Harleen closed her eyes for a moment trying to remember the layout of the asylum. She hadn’t bothered since she came back, but she should know where solitary was located in the asylum and if this Poison Ivy had a special cell, shouldn’t she know where that was as well? After a few seconds Harleen gave up on trying to remember because she realized that her computer would have a map. She didn’t have internet access and she had limited access to patient files, but a map… 

Turning around Harleen hurried back to her office, her bare feet making little sound. 

* 

Finding the map of the asylum didn’t take her long at all. Solitary was in the basement of the asylum, a set of half a dozen cells. If she could get to the stairwell, she could go straight down there. According to the records, there was no one in any of the cells at the moment, which, if Arkham and Chen were to be believed, was a lie. She also found the location of a cell that was highlighted in green with the name Poison Ivy over it. That had to be this special cell Dr. Arkham and Chen had been discussing. 

Harleen frowned, rubbing her fingers against her lips and wondered why this Poison Ivy would have a special cell. She had tried to see if she could find files on Joker or Poison Ivy, but the files were both restricted. This all seemed weird, strange. Why would their files be off limits? What could possibly be in them that she couldn't see as a doctor? 

Again she was assaulted with that feeling of being Alice lost in Wonderland, lost in a world that held some familiarity, but was still strange, making her feel that she didn’t quite belong here. Harleen looked at the time. She had two and a half hours before Bruce would show up to pick her up. She knew the stairwell was in the hall down from here and that there was usually a guard or an orderly that stood at the end of her hall to prevent her from wandering. If she could get rid of him, she could make it to the stairwell. From there, getting to the basement shouldn’t take any time at all. 

Harleen stood up and hurried out of her office. She stopped outside her door and listened. She didn’t hear anyone; that didn’t mean someone wasn’t in the lounge, but she decided to move. Reaching down to take her shoes off, Harleen hurried down the hall, stopping just outside the lounge. She closed her eyes and listened, but she didn’t hear anything. After counting to ten Harleen turned to look around the corner into the lounge. 

No one was inside the room. 

Grinning Harleen slipped her shoes back on and headed down the rest of the hall to where she knew a guard would be waiting. 

* 

Frank sighed, leaning against the wall and wishing he could go and get a cigarette. He didn’t even really know why he had to stand watch over Dr. Quinzel. She was a damn doctor after all, but whatever. He did what he was told. He was still thinking about a smoke when he saw Dr. Quinzel walk around the corner. He hurriedly pushed himself up from the wall. 

“Oh, hey Dr. Quinzel. Everything all right?” he asked. 

Harleen smiled. “Oh everything is fine--Frank right?” 

Frank smiled. Dr. Quinzel was a gorgeous woman. He tried not to give her a once over, but it was hard to resist. He liked his women busty and she was definitely busty with a figure that made a man’s mouth water. “That’s right Dr. Quinzel.” 

Harleen batted her eyelashes at him. “Please, call me Harleen. Frank, I was wondering if I could ask a favor of you.” 

“Sure thing Dr...I mean Harleen.” He blushed. 

Harleen smiled and leaned a hand against the wall and cocked her hip. She could tell by the way he was trying not to look at her that Frank was looking at her body. Which was perfect. If he was distracted by sexual urges, he wouldn’t think too hard about her asking him for a silly favor to get him away from the hall. 

“I was really wanting a snack and they don’t have anything good here in the lounge. Since I’m not really allowed to wander without an escort and I do have some paperwork I have got to get finished before I leave today, I was really hoping I could ask you to run down to the cafeteria for me and pick me up something.” She smiled seductively at him. “I would really appreciate it.” 

Frank didn’t think twice. If he did a favor for her, then who knew what might come of it. Ladies liked a guy willing to go that extra mile and besides, he could take a few minutes for himself and slip outside for a smoke. 

“Sure thing Harleen, what would ya like?” Frank asked eagerly. 

“Well...I am watching my figure. Mmm...maybe a muffin?” Harleen smiled and Frank nodded. “Sure thing Dr...I mean Harleen, and you shouldn’t worry about your figure, if you don’t mind me saying. It’s just fine.” 

Harleen blushed, smiling shyly. “Why thank you Frank. I’ll just be in my office. Feel free to knock when you come back.” 

Frank grinned, thinking he might be able to grab enough time for two cigarettes as he gave her a salute and hurried off. Harleen watched him go until he disappeared into the elevator. She watched to the count of ten, pulled off her shoes and rushed to the other end of the hall, opening the stairwell door and rushed down the steps at breakneck speed. 

* 

Joker laid on his back looking up at the light in the ceiling, too far up for him to reach, letting the pain remind him that he was still alive even though he felt dead inside without Harley. The light in the small room, just big enough for him to stand and walk a few paces either way, came on at six a.m. and went off at six p.m., whether he wanted it to or not. There was the bed, attached to the wall with a flat pillow and a thin blanket, a table, also attached to the wall, a toilet, a sink, and nothing else. The walls were padded a dull, off white, which made them sound proof so he could yell until he was hoarse and no one would hear him, but he also couldn’t hear anyone either. The room’s door had a small window and a little opening near the floor just big enough for his tray of food to be slipped in and for him to slide it out again. He knew there was an intercom on the other side of the door where someone could speak to him, but he couldn't communicate with anyone outside of his cell unless someone outside allowed it. 

Joker sighed, closing his eyes. 

He was here. He had gotten himself into Arkham; that was the easy part. Now he needed to find Harley, which he had no idea how to do...yet. He tried not to let himself sink into despair. He was closer, at least. She was here. His chest hurt and he felt the sting of tears behind his eyes. He had to find her, had to know for sure she was alive and that all of this wasn’t some twisted fantasy he had created for himself. 

“Hello?” 

Joker’s eyes flew open. 

He pushed himself up on his elbows and looked to the door. Staring through the small window was Harley. 

Joker sucked in a breath, his head spinning for a moment before he stumbled to his feet. Harley backed away from the door, looking a little scared. Joker just barely stopped himself from racing to the door and throwing himself against it to get to her. He walked the few steps over and pressed his hands on either side of the window as he looked out at her. 

He smiled brightly, his eyes shining with tears and madness. “Harley...it’s really you. I wasn’t completely sure...I worried about that.” He couldn’t find the words to say what he was thinking because there she was...his girl...alive and whole. 

Harleen frowned, staying a step back from the window, but her finger remained against the intercom so she could hear him, and she didn’t run away. She stood staring at him. Her heart was hammering and something else she felt. There was something about this pale man...something important. She could feel it. He was...special. 

Joker watched as her eyes quickly moved from him to the camera in the corner, a camera that Joker knew for a fact hadn’t worked in years. Arkham and its budget cuts. 

Harleen stepped closer, laying her other hand against the door, tilting her head to the side. She looked lost and confused. 

“Are...are you the Joker?” she asked softly, her voice filled with wonder. 

Joker felt as if he had been stabbed in the chest. She didn’t know him? 

Instead he smiled wider. “Yes I am my dear. And you are?” 

“Dr. Harleen Quinzel,” she said softly, moving a fraction closer to the little window. 

“Harleen Quinzel…” Joker’s heart was beating so hard in his chest that the sound filled his ears. He knew what he had to do--he had to win her again. That was all, win her love again and she would remember everything, he was sure of it. 

“You know, if you rework it a bit, you get Harley Quinn,” he said softly. 

Harley smiled at him. He felt his throat constrict with pain at the sight of her smile. “Like the clown character, Harlequin. I know. I've heard it before,” she replied with just a hint of sarcasm. 

Joker chuckled, his eyes dancing. There was his Harley, right there hiding, waiting for him to find her again. 

“It's a name that puts a smile on my face. It makes me feel there's someone here I can relate to. Someone who might like to hear my secrets,” he purred. 

Harley giggled softly, her eyes twinkling in that familiar way that made his heart sing.


	5. Plans in Tears

Joker watched Harley glance toward the cameras again. She looked so young and pretty, the pretty little doctor who wanted to know all his secrets. He sighed as he gazed at her through the bars, his beautiful little doctor. 

“They don’t work…” He pointed at the cameras that Harley had been looking at nervously and added, “...haven’t worked in a while.” Joker grinned and swung his shoulders back and forth with nervous energy. “Costs money to run an asylum, which the asylum doesn’t have, so the cameras that work are usually the ones in the common areas to watch over, you know, the occasional visitor, like the governor or something...or pretty little doctors...” He chuckled as he resisted the urge to push himself against the door, especially because he knew it wouldn’t get him any closer to Harley and it might drive her away. He would want to die if he drove her away. 

He continued talking, trying to keep her here with him. “Sometimes the elite like to come and mingle with us lesser people and you gotta make sure the public sees it because the public eats that shit up!” Joker chuckled again, his voice rising with an edge of hysteria before he suddenly stopped laughing, his voice going completely calm. “So no, the cameras don’t work. There a reason why you’re worried about the cameras?” Joker leaned closer and gave her a genuine smile. She was in there, his Harley, already being a bad little girl. His heart beat a little faster at the thought. He had to fight to not tear up seeing her. It hurt to have her look through him, the woman he loved, not see him for him. She looked so confused, as if there was something on the tip of her awareness that she couldn’t quite see. Joker smiled then, because that meant his Harley was in there, hidden away. He just needed to help her see. 

He could feel himself shivering. The pent up energy he had been holding onto had grown so strong, he felt as if he was going to lose control of it. With a deep breath and a clenching of his jaw, he held on tighter, but the strain made his muscles ache. He bit down on his bottom lip hard enough that he tasted blood. That was good, the taste of his blood in his mouth helped him calm down. He smiled again, trying to stay relaxed, but knew he couldn’t, not for long. He wiggled back and forth restlessly. 

“So, what are you doing down here with the monsters Dr. Quinzel?” He purred her name; he couldn’t really help himself. It had been like that from the moment their eyes met that first time he remembered, his sweet, little doctor. 

Harleen frowned, looking back at Joker. She couldn’t get a very good look at Joker, the cell window was simply too small. That was going to make talking to him, getting to know the man on the other side of the door better, a lot, lot harder. Her mind was already working on a plan so she could change that...she would need to get the key or at least get one to make a copy. She frowned looking at the lock. It was one of the old ones that took the sort of keys that made you think of haunted houses. Which meant that she would have to get one of the actual keys and not try to get a copy made. The head nurse would have a key, Dr. Arkham, Dr. Strange, and the head of security and one or two orderlies per shift. It wouldn’t be hard for her to find out who the orderlies were...getting one of their keys without being noticed harder. The orderlies would not tell the doctors, she could pretty much guarantee that if one of them thought they lost a key they would not report it. Losing a key, especially one to a sensitive area, called for immediate firing, and no orderly was going to want to lose his job. 

She just needed to figure out how to get one... 

“Dr. Quinzel, did you hear me?” 

Harleen’s eyes snapped up to see the bright blue eyes of the Joker looking out at her from the barred window. He really had the most attractive eyes she had ever seen, Harleen thought with a strange blush on her cheeks. 

“I’m sorry--what did you ask?” Harleen blushed. She had been so focused on figuring out how to see him again that she had tuned out. 

Joker smiled at her, his eyes twinkling with emotion. “Why are you down here Doc? I have this feeling you’re not supposed to be here.” He winked her. “But I won’t tell if you don’t tell.” 

“I would like to help you,” Harleen said softly. His smile send a not unpleasant shiver down her spine, and realized she had conflicted ideas on what helping him might actually be, though she couldn't put her finger on why. She had no doubt that the Joker needed mental help, but she had no idea where any of this was coming from, this need to talk to and study the Joker. Maybe it was in response to the fact that she was being treated with kid gloves by the asylum staff. Maybe she was angry because her employers didn’t want her doing anything at all beyond being a glorified secretary or maybe it was something about the man called the Joker, his name that had made her feel as if she had memories fluttering like moth wings against the sides of her consciousness. That feeling that he knew something, whatever it was she was feeling. Harleen continued. “...but I’m not supposed to be down here…” she thought about saying more but didn’t. Instead she murmured, 

“So if you agreed to my help, you would have to keep your mouth shut.” She put a finger to her lips. “Otherwise I can’t help you.” Harleen’s eyes were wide, stressing how important it was for him to be good and stay quiet. 

Joker looked back at her with amusement before putting a finger to his lips. “Shh.” He nodded slowly. “My lips are sealed sweets. Sealed, sealed, sealed! Private, secret sessions sweets.” 

Harleen frowned at him and whispered softly as that strange, warm tickle down her spine returned. “Sweets?” 

Joker smiled tenderly. “Yeah...Sweets...my sweets. My sweetest girl...” 

Harleen frowned, looking confused as she muttered with no real venom in her voice, instead she sounded distracted by the warm tickle his voice was creating across her skin. 

“Don’t call me that…” She stared back at Joker, but it was more a plea than an order. 

Joker said nothing. He just smiled at her, willing her to remember, but terrified to push her, terrified that now that he was so close, he would do something that would lose her to him forever. So he just smiled. It was the only thing he could do, smile against the pain. 

How did the old song go? 

Even though something inside is grieving, 

Laugh, Clown, laugh! 

Don't let your heart grow too mellow…” 

Staring at him for a few seconds longer, Harleen felt her insides do a flip flop. Something was definitely wrong, but she just didn’t know what but she wasn’t afraid, at least not exactly. She looked back at him then shook her head. Whatever the term ‘sweets’ had been trying to pull up from her memories dissolved. She simply stared at him, their eyes locking. For a moment she couldn't breathe, the frantic beating of her heart skipped a beat as she just stared before she quickly turned her head away and hurried past his door. 

He pressed himself against the bars to watch her leave, his heart thumping hard. 

He whispered to her retreating form. “I love you sweets. I’ll bring you back home I promise.” 

The energy, the madness, the fear, the nervousness all felt like bugs, nasty biting bugs under his skin that hurt him, burned him. Joker shuddered before he let out a pained groan and thrust his head backwards. He slammed his head against the door several times, hard, painful strikes until he was seeing black dots at the edges of his vision. 

Letting himself slide down the door, Joker sank to the floor. He fell over on his side like a broken doll, wrapped his arms around himself, and letting the fear and despair win, he broke down into sobs, slamming his balled fist into the floor several times. The pain gave him something else to focus on, something he could manage, something he could control. He could deal with and control his physical pain much better than the pain that was eating at his insides. 

The pain he felt in his chest, the emotional pain, spread out like rippling water to fill every part of him. Every part of him felt a type of pain he couldn't touch. No balm or medicine could alleviate that pain until he had his girl back. 

When the pain inside grew to be too much, Joker had to let it out. It was the one thing he had control of right now, the one thing he could do. The worse the pain on the outside, the more of the pain inside he could control--at least he hoped so. When he had bouts of depression before Harley, Joker would simply go out, commit a crime, usually something violent, kill a few random people on the street, have some fun while doing a drive-by shooting, anything that would get under the Bat’s wings, then wait around so he could fight with Batman. Those had been beautiful, simplistic times. 

He would do something fun--and bad--Batman would beat him up and toss him in Arkham. Then Joker would escape; shake and repeat. Batman would beat the shit out of him for killing a few people and he’d feel a little better, at least for a little while. 

But then came Harley and everything changed. 

Now when depression’s ugly face loomed, he had her. She would talk to Joker, hold him, kiss him gently, suggest something fun to do together like making love or killing everyone in some resturant for the fun of it… 

Harley would just be there for him, his lover, his friend, his cohort, partner. She was everything to him, the only person in his world who understood him, who loved him. Harley would soothe all the pain of the world away with her soft voice, gentle touch and her kisses, which always led into intense sex, sex that would banish all his poisonous thoughts away, every single time, faster and better than being beaten to a pulp by Batman, better than the most chaotic, riotous, crazy crimes. Heck, sometimes Harley would encourage him and they would go out together to kill a few people or pull some wild scheme and play with Batman together. 

Everything about his life was better with her, more vibrant and joyous with Harley in it. 

Holding himself as tightly as he could, Joker pressed his face against the floor, shuddering as he fought not to let the despair and fear overtake him. His whole body ached for Harley, just to hold her, to feel her lips, just to hear her whisper. “I love you puddin…puddin.” 

Groaning low and soft, the pain like a knife to his very soul, Joker pressed his face against the floor, his arms wrapped tight around himself, trying to force away the pain. He tried to tell himself he didn’t need her, that he didn’t feel anything at all, but that was all a lie. He was falling apart without her, teetering on the last scrap of sanity, of lucidity he had left. He had to win her back, he couldn’t survive losing her again. She made his world that much funnier, that much...happier. 

He needed her, he loved her... 

Only love could hurt like this he thought to himself even as the tears slowly rolled down the side of his long, narrow nose, only love could make him feel like this... 

* 

Harleen was panting by the time she had run back to her office, managing to do some cat and mouse hiding game with Frank (even if he didn’t know he was playing) before she slipped past him and into the hall where her office was located. She hurried, barefoot, her shoes in her hands, running down to her office before she switched direction and ran into the bathroom. She slipped inside as quietly as she could. 

She made a racket in the bathroom (thank goodness no one was in there, as they would have thought she was nuts), slipped her shoes back on, but when she walked out of the bathroom she turned and saw Frank at the end of the hall. 

He waved and yelled. “I set your muffin on your desk!” 

She smiled and waved back. “Thank you!” 

Turning, Harley walked hurriedly toward her office, communicating loudly that she was innocent of any wrongdoing. Dr. Harleen Quinzel was just walking to her office. She had not been sneaking down to see the Joker, wasn’t plotting anything. 

At her office door Harleen turned to look down the hall, but Frank was gone probably around the corner. She grinned as she pushed her office door open and stepped inside. Chewing the side of her bottom lip in thought while she closed the door, those same thoughts drifted toward snapshots in her head of the way Joker’s blue eyes shone instead of focusing on how she was going to get her hands on a key for his cell. There was just something about his gaze that she had felt before, the shiver down her spine, a deep warmth in the aching hollow of her groin. 

And then there was his smile mixed with the hypnotic purr of his voice, both of which had given her a case of the goosebumps, but not the scary kind. Rather, they had been of the slightly turned on type. 

Laughing at herself Harley sat down and reached for her muffin, banana nut. Twisting the muffin between her hands, Harleen shivered just a little. She had to get herself a key to his cell and she needed to figure out how to get to see Poison Ivy. 

It was hard to believe she was planning a crime just to get a hold of a pair of keys, but here she was doing exactly that. 

Bruce would be so upset--if he found out, which he wouldn’t. This was going to be her little secret. 

* 

Bruce glanced over at Harleen who was looking out the window as Alfred drove. She had barely said two words to him since he picked her up from work. Harleen looked completely distracted by something. Her brow was furrowed in that cute little way she had when she was thinking and her bottom lip stuck out a little in a pout. It was, he realized, an adorable expression. 

He glanced at the rearview mirror to see Alfred lift an eyebrow at him, clearly sensing something was bothering Harleen too. 

Looking down at his pants legs that he kept brushing imaginary dust off of, Bruce finally murmured. “So, bad day?” He looked up slowly at her with a slight frown creasing his brow. 

Harleen glanced over at him with a questioning look. “What?” 

“I asked if you had a bad day,” Bruce repeated and Harleen shook her head, seeming to snap herself out of whatever melancholy she was under. She gave him a smile, still slightly distracted, but not like it had been just moments before. 

“No, no, I had a perfectly ordinary day, saw a couple of patients under supervision and then lots of paperwork.” She shrugged, glancing out the window then back at Bruce. 

“I just have a lot of my mind.” She gave him an apologetic look at the same time she reached up and pulled her hair down from its bun. Her hair fell in golden waves down over her shoulders before Harleen put her fingers into her hair, pressing into her scalp as she groaned loudly. Bruce smiled. He liked her hair. It was thick with just enough wave that she could curl it or brush it straight. She shook her head and groaned softly as she massaged her scalp. 

“Have you ever had your scalp just hurt? Like the skin hurts?” she asked looking over at Bruce through the veil of her hair. 

Bruce laughed and motioned at her with his fingers. “Come here, let me do that?” 

Harleen lifted a blonde brow at him before she shrugged, turned her back to him, and scooted closer to Bruce who reached out with both hands and began to massage her scalp. Harleen groaned and moaned loudly and theatrically until Bruce was chuckling, his fingers moving through her hair. Since she was so much shorter than him, massaging her scalp was easy. He took a deep breath, taking in the warm smell of her hair, vanilla mixed with almond. 

“If I knew scalp massages felt that good I might have to get one myself.” Bruce chuckled when Harleen tossed her head back with a smirk when he was done. 

“I’m sure there are hundreds of pretty girls and boys who want to rub your scalp.” Harleen giggled at him only to have Bruce shrug. “What can I say? It’s the hair.” He reached up and ran his hands over his head. “$500 haircut, people can feel quality.” 

Laughing Harleen ran her fingers through her hair tugging out any tangles. “$500?! Tell me you don’t really pay that much!” 

Bruce had the good sense to blush. “Well…” 

“Ugh!! You do!!” Harleen shook her head giving him a stern stare. “That’s a stupid price to pay for a haircut.” 

Alfred made a choking sound that might have been a laugh. 

Putting his hands up to defend himself Bruce pouted, but he was grinning. “Hey, it’s expected that I be decadent!” 

Harleen chuckled for a split second as she thought about running her fingers through thick green curls of hair. She coiled the green curls around her fingers, sliding nicely through her fingers, soft like silk, amd curling around her fingers. A warm, seductive laugh accompanied the gesture, a laugh she felt deep inside, but she couldn’t see who it was coming from... 

In the next beat the image and laugh were gone. 

Harleen sucked in a hard breath, as if she were gasping for breath, startling Bruce and Alfred. “Miss Quinzel, are you all right?” Alfred met her gaze in the rearview. For a moment the poor young woman looked haunted. Pressing his lips together Alfred maintained a neutral expression, but this entire project that Batman and the doctor had taken on worried him, worried him a great deal. Harleen shook her head and gave Alfred a smile. “Sorry...just startled myself, and I’m tired.” She smiled at them both, followed by her breathing into a real yawn. “I’m fine--promise.” Another yawn followed. 

Bruce reached out and patted her hand that rested on her thigh. “You tell me the moment anything is bothering you Harleen. We’re friends remember? I’m here to help you.” 

“I know Bruce.” Harleen smiled sweetly at him. “I know.” 

* 

They had a simple dinner that night of hamburgers and fries, which Harleen enjoyed slightly more than the expensive meals that Bruce usually called in. Burgers and fries seemed far more normal to her than say kobe steak, which was damn good, but she felt weird eating like that. Now this, this felt like something she had done before. 

After dinner they watched an episode of “Dancing with the Stars” since tonight was her night to pick what they watched. While they were watching, Harleen curled against Bruce’s side, her head on his shoulder while had his arms across the couch. The dancing kept making her think...or maybe it was remember...she couldn’t be sure, but as she watch some of the couples perform the waltz, Harleen felt an odd tickle in her mind. 

“Have we ever been dancing?” Harleen asked softly looking up at Bruce and mostly just seeing his square chin. 

Bruce glanced down at her. “No we haven’t. Would you like to? I can get us someone to teach us if you want to learn something more esoteric, though I do know the basics.” Bruce lifted a dark brow at her, but Harleen shook her head. 

“I don’t know...maybe...just a thought.” Her mind drifted as she watched the dancers, the slow precise movements, the way the man grasped the woman around her waist, holding her arm back, pressed against his chest. That stance made Harleen feel...well, a little turned on. 

She was sure she knew how to waltz...so sure that she stood up, surprising Bruce. She was in her pink and white pajamas with the long pants and ruffled shirt, her hair braided over one shoulder, but her expression was serious. “Waltz with me,” she said simply, her hand out. 

Bruce frowned for a moment. Something was wrong, he could feel it, but for the life of him he didn’t know what was wrong, what was happening. He took Harleen's outstretched hand and stood, certain he would figure it out soon. 

“Do you know how to waltz?” he asked as he moved her coffee table out of the way trying to keep his tone light. 

“I don’t know,” Harleen stated even as she took up a nearly perfect waltzing position. Alarm bells were going off in Bruce’s head, but he couldn’t think what he was missing because as he put his hand on Harleen’s waist, taking her free hand in his hand and looked down at her pretty face, he found himself forgetting what it was he had been trying to remember. Bruce knew how to waltz from many many dance lessons as a kid for parties that his parents threw. It was a skill he kept up in private school and as an adult. He fell easily into the steps of the old dance with Harleen following right in step with him. Red flags kept trying to focus his attention on them, but Bruce dismissed them as him being foolish. 

Harleen giggled as Bruce took her for a turn around the living room. It was clear that Harleen knew the waltz. She moved easily through the steps as someone who had long practice with the dance would. He grinned, enjoying her laughter, the smile on her lips, and the bright twinkle in her eyes. She grinned up at him, arching back against him, throwing her arm over her head. She turned to look at him, then suddenly frowned in confusion. “Your eyes are the wrong shade of blue…” Her voice held a lost little girl tone as she stared at him in deep confusion when it suddenly dawned on Bruce why dancing with her had alarmed him. 

Harley Quinn and Joker danced all the time. 

He had caught them on more than one occasion--as Batman--dancing. The waltz was Joker’s favorite dance and was the one he caught them dancing to more often than not. And they were both good at the waltz. It was such an odd thing, he had always thought, the two of them dancing old dances like the Viennese Waltz, Samba, the Cha Cha, the Tango, the Quickstep, he had even seen them do the Rumba once. The Joker was an excellent dancer and so was Harley Quinn...of course dancing would be a possible trigger! Bruce let go of Harley so quickly, stepping back from her and giving her a little shove before he had realized he was doing it. 

Harleen let out a yelp as she stumbled back and flopped onto the couch. 

She glared at Bruce. “What was that for?” 

Bruce stared at her, shocked at what he had just done and how stupid. “I’m...I’m sorry Harleen. I don’t…” He blushed and whispered. “I thought I saw a spider on your shoulder.” 

Harleen frowned at him. “What?” She looked at her shoulder, brushing away invisible spiders. 

“I think it was just a shadow,” Bruce muttered, coming over to take her and sitting down with her again. 

“I’m sorry, are you all right?” he asked with a smile. 

“Yeah, I suppose I am.” Harleen said with a smirk. “I didn't realize you hated spiders that much. Billionaire Bruce Wayne is afraid of spiders...heh,” she muttered before grinning at him. “Well your secret is safe with me. Someone would have to offer me several million before I would tell them.” 

Bruce chuckled, giving her a fake shudder. “I hate them, too many legs...and you would sell me out for millions?” 

Harleen chuckled nodded. “Yes. Sorry Bruce, but for a couple of million dollars I would sell your spider secret.” Bruce stuck his lip out looking wounded while Harleen continued to laugh adding. 

“Anything with more than four legs is weird.” 

“Agreed...well…” Bruce lighty grabbed Harleen’s head and leaned her toward him while she laughed and kissed the top of her head. 

“I better get going…” He turned the TV off as he got up, that deadly show now gone, even though the show was still going. “I’m sure we both have busy days tomorrow.” 

Harleen yawned, stretching her arms over her head. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I am a bit tired.” 

Bruce stood, gently pulling Harleen with him as he got to his feet where he kissed her again on the forehead, holding her hand between them. “You sleep well Harleen. I hope all your dreams are beautiful.” Bruce smiled softly at her before he brought her hand up and kissed her knuckles. 

Harleen smiled. “Night Bruce.” 

He gave her another smile before he turned and left for the evening. Harleen pressed her lips together looking down at her hand. She remembered someone else kissing her knuckles, someone with warm lips. She reached down to touch the shadow of someone else only to have to shadow disappear, her fingers breaking apart the shadow. 

Shaking her head, Harleen muttered out loud. “Maybe I do need some sleep…” She walked to the front door and locked--even if she didn't need to in such a secure building--before she headed to her bedroom. As she walked down the hall, her mind turned to her problem with the key. She knew she needed to get it from one of the orderlies because they were less likely to report a missing key than say, the head nurse. She just wasn’t sure how… 

Harleen brushed her teeth and used the bathroom, her mind momentarily muddled with thoughts about getting ready for bed, then getting ready for work in the morning. She pulled open her closet and pulled out a skirt and shirt for tomorrow, a red blouse with a black pencil skirt. Harleen frowned as she realized she didn’t have many red items in her closet. Why did that seem wrong? 

These were her clothes, she should have some red, red was one of her favorite colors...Harleen went still as the thought drifted away. She remembered her favorite color! 

Red! It was red!!! 

Harleen jumped for her phone grabbing it from where she had set it on the bedside table earlier and quickly dialed Bruce’s number. 

Bruce picked up with a laugh. “Miss me already?” 

“It’s red!!” She yelled into the phone. 

On his end of the phone Bruce frowned in slight confusion, but a cold trickle of fear coiled in his belly. “Red? I don’t understand?” 

“I just remembered!! Red is one of my favorite colors!” Harleen squealed rolling onto her back on her bed where she had thrown herself. “I don’t know why I don’t have anything red, but I know red is one of my favorite colors.” Harleen giggled happily. 

Bruce looked up at Alfred, but he murmured, “Harleen, you said one of your favorite colors, you have more than one? You know most people only have one.” 

Harleen frowned, still staring up at her ceiling in confusion. “What do you mean?” 

“I just mean are you sure your favorite color is red or were you just looking for a red shirt and confused yourself?” Bruce asked softly. He could sense Harleen’s confusion and maybe discontent with his answer. She had expected him to be happy for her, but instead he was shooting her down. He bit his bottom lip in frustration. He felt terrible about lying to her, but any little detail like this might lead to other things. If Harley Quinn hadn’t worn mostly red, this might not be an issue, but all Bruce could think about was Harley Quinn in her jester’s outfit and the bright strain of red blood. 

On the other end of the phone, Harleen swallowed back tears. She had been so sure that she was remembering something, something more about herself, but Bruce’s doubt made her doubt herself. Maybe he was right, she had just noticed that there wasn’t a lot of color in her closet and one of the dancers tonight had worn a red dress, hadn’t they? 

“You...you might be right. I was thinking I didn’t have any color in my closet just before...” She swallowed hard trying not to cry, but Bruce could hear the sadness in her voice, the break as she struggled not to cry. Fuck, he thought. He could see the tears on her cheeks without even seeing her. He felt like such a heel, but he told himself that this was good for her, this would help her be the woman she should have been. Harleen Quinzel deserved to be herself, not the criminally insane, brainwashed woman Joker had made her into the last few years. 

Taking a deep breath, he whispered softly. “I’m sorry Harleen, but it’s all right. How about I pick you up a couple of blouses with some bright colors, like an apricot or maybe a clear aqua?” Bruce said hurriedly. 

Harleen nodded even though Bruce couldn’t see her. She sniffed and wiped angrily at her tears. “Yeah, that sounds great Bruce, thank you.” 

“Anytime Harleen, anytime. Good night,” Bruce said in a soft tone. 

“Good night,” Harleen whispered before turning off the phone. She laid still on her back staring up at the ceiling for a few moments before she rolled over onto her side and pulled her legs up and cried. 

* 

Harleen’s dreams were in technicolor. 

She was standing on a brick road, made of golden bricks all painted with “HAHA!!” in neon greens and purples as far as the eye could see. In the distance, Harleen could see the grey and smoke covered silhouette of Gotham City, but as she looked around her, she could see colorful trees loaded with candies and cookies in colors that were only found in gumballs. She looked down at herself to find she was wearing a little ruffled dress, the sort of pale orange and white froffy dress that looked like a cream puff, the sort one would see on a baby doll. The dress was the same light orange of a Dreamsicle, with little colorful cupcakes printed all over the fabric. Harleen’s hair was done up in twin buns with little glitter cupcakes tied around them in orange. Looking down at her feet, Harleen saw she was wearing white and orange striped hose with little black mary janes, there were white ribbons on her stockings, and ribbons at her throat and waist. There were a lot of ribbons. 

“This is wrong,” Harleen told herself as she held up the skirt of the dress and watched the ruffles fall, but even as she spoke she heard the sound of circus music slowly drifting over the gold brick road. 

Frowning she looked down the road. The sound was the old timey organ sounding sort of circus music. She knew the music was familiar, not just in the fact that she had heard it before--everyone had heard this sort of circus music in old cartoons and sometimes movies--but this was different. The emotions that sound set off in her were intense, possessive, crazed, and yet utterly wonderful and welcome emotions. Connected to those emotions were memories, she was sure of it. She could almost see them, shadows, wispy clouds of shadows moving just out of her reach. She would dive her hands in trying to grab them, but the shadows of the memories kept slipping through her fingers, slippery and whipping away from her like a fish. 

Just as she was ready to stomp down the road toward the music, Harleen saw movement. Coming up the golden road, dancing with the music, was a man. He was tall, so tall that Harley’s head might reach only the middle of his chest. His face was white, like a painted clown face, with red, red lips and darkness around his eyes making the haunting blue irises glow. His suit was white with purple stripes, and purple leather gloves over his hands. He looked as if he was wearing a zoot suit with it’s high-waisted, wide-legged, tight-cuffed, pegged trousers, and the coat he wore was a long coat with wide lapels and wide, extremely sharp padded shoulders. He wore black and white shoes (or were those spats she asked herself) that shone so bright they sparkled, and last but not least, he was wearing a purple and white fedora on top of his green hair. 

He danced to the music, his tall, slender body moving gracefully, but when he saw her waiting at the side of the road the man with the green hair stopped and smiled at her, looking both pleased and surprised to see her. 

Harleen felt a warm tickle in her stomach when the strange man smiled at her. She thought he looked handsome with lean features, a sharp nose and chin--not traditionally handsome, certainly, but there was something about him that drew her, like a string being tugged in her gut. He bowed elegantly, his red lipped smile never wavering as he stuck his right foot out just slightly, extending his leg before he removed his hat and bowed low before her, one hand to his chest. 

“My, what beautiful creature is this?” he asked with a laugh in his voice. His voice sounded so familiar Harleen thought, she knew she had heard the man’s voice before. 

“Ah, Harleen Quinzel,” she said softly, blushing. 

The man grinned a little wider, reaching for her hand which Harleen let him take. He brought her hand up to his lips and pressed a kiss there, a kiss that she felt all the way in her toes. The warmth he caused her to feel spread out like a caress, finding sensitive places on her skin to stroke. 

“Well, well, Harley Quinn--a pleasure.” He stood up, releasing her hand and put his arm out to her. “Why don’t you walk with me Harley Quinn? I have all sorts of stories to tell you about…” The man began to walk, taking her with him. 

“Stories?” she asked, looking at him. Something about his profile was so familiar, made her want to drag the pad of her finger along his nose and jaw, her mouth working lower as the man next to her groaned with pleasure. Her lips moving across the smooth, white landscape of his body, his back arching when she used her tongue to trace the bones of his hips, his long fingers, grasping her hair... 

Harleen shook her head to dislodge the sudden image that rose up in her mind. 

“See something toots?” the man next to her asked with a wide smile. 

“Who are you?” she asked, her voice having the quality of someone who was lost and confused. 

The man smiled, leaning down to look her in the eyes. “Why my darling dear, pumpkin pie, you know who I am. Say my name sweets…” He leaned closer, his lips so close to her mouth she could almost touch him. His warm breath caressed her skin, made her draw in a sharp breath with...excitement. 

“Say my name…” 

Harleen opened her mouth to reply when the dream was shattered by the sound of her alarm going off. 

Rolling over, Harleen muttered incoherently about the stupidity of alams. She made a grab for her phone where she had set the alarm only to knock it off the table and to the floor. Growling loudly Harleen staggered to her feet, grabbed up the phone and trudged to the bathroom, the remains of the dream evaporating. 

* 

While she fixed her hair, staring at her reflection in the mirror, Harleen grinned. She had let her mind wander as she tried to think of a plan to get the key when suddenly an idea that was so simple it just might work just popped into her thoughts. 

Every floor of the asylum had a supply closet where mops, brooms, and other cleaning items were stored, but those closets also held extra towels, and most importantly for Harleen, uniforms. There were extra, plain white nurses uniforms as well as uniforms for the orderlies, along with a few extra doctors coats. The only thing the asylum didn’t provide was extra shoes. Harleen thought the extra clothing was a great idea because you never knew when a patient was going to decide to start throwing food, feces, or other nasty things at you, but those extra clothes just provided her with a great way to get away to see both Poison Ivy and the Joker. 

She saw patients along with Dr. Chen until just before lunch. Usually she saw patients in the afternoon , but because of a minor incident in the patient’s lounge, all her appointments were done by lunch today. After lunch Harleen was left alone to compile her notes for her personal doctor files on the handful of patients she was seeing; after she was done with this task, Harleen was kept busy the rest of the afternoon working with other files on the computer. A pretty tedious task. 

The first week and a half she was here at Arkham, someone came to check on her twice every afternoon. A few days later it was only once during the afternoon and in the last few days, going into two weeks, no one had come to check on her at all. That gave Harleen five hours to work with. Granted, she was still taking a big chance of getting caught, but… 

No, no buts she told herself. 

First thing first, the key. 

Harleen was thinking about how to disguise her face. The uniform of a nurse would make her almost invisible in the asylum as all the nurses tended to blend together for the doctors. She suddenly grinned with a thought on how to make herself even more invisible. She quickly began searching until she found them, a pair of expensive sunglasses that Bruce had given her. The frames were simple, round black frames, a little too big for a pair of regular glasses, but Harleen was sure they would work. It took her a bit longer to get the lenses out than she thought it would, but she managed to get the lenses popped out and put the frames on her nose after cleaning them. 

She giggled at her reflection. The glasses did actually make her look a lot different. 

“No one is going to know it's me…” she whispered before taking the glasses off and sliding them into the pocket of her doctor’s jacket. 

* 

Harleen had difficulty keeping her interest in her patients and their problems, but she tried her best. This morning it seemed as if everyone was purposely causing time to drag at the slowest pace possible! Harleen almost screamed in frustration! 

Even Dr. Chen, who usually left after Harleen’s last patient, lingered! Harleen resisted the urge to bang her head against the wall. 

Dr. Chen smiled at Harleen before she took a breath. “I’ve been meaning to ask you if you would be going to the Arkham Halloween party?” 

Harleen frowned, looking up from her notes where she had been trying to pretend to be getting right down to work since lunch wasn’t for another half hour. 

“Arkham Halloween party?” she asked with confusion looking up from the work she was pretending to try to do. “The asylum has a Halloween party?” 

Dr. Chen nodded frowning slightly, clearly feeling bad about bringing the party up since Dr. Quinzel clearly didn’t remember them. “I’m sorry you don’t remember.” She smiled leaning against Harleen’s desk. Harleen felt the intense urge to stab her pen into Dr. Chen’s thigh, but she resisted the violent, unbidden urge. Harleen was very proud of herself because the desire had been almost overwhelming, the intensity of the desire to stab Dr. Chen had felt strangely welcoming. Harleen pressed her lips together, deciding that she wasn’t going to try to focus on the feeling. It must be the stress she was feeling right now, she thought, since she was planning on committing a crime, that was probably what had her thinking such violent thoughts. Besides, it wasn’t as if she ever do anything so violent as that, she told herself. 

Harleen turned her attention back to Dr. Chen sliding her pen into her hair over her ear as Dr. Chen continued. “Yes, we have one every year at the beginning of October. It’s not anything special really, just some music, some dancing, and some punch. Dr. Arkham lets some of the patients participate, the nonviolent ones, or the patients who won’t be triggered by frightening imagery.” She tapped her fingers along the underside of Harleen’s desk as she spoke. “... not that we ever have anything scary at our Halloween parties, unless you count Dr. Cassidy’s costume…” She shrugged with a chuckle. “Every year he comes as something disturbing. Last year was Annabelle, you know the possessed doll?” Harleen nodded and Dr. Chen continued. “Anyway, I thought you might want to go, it might help with your memory…” She pressed her lips together. “... but you hadn’t mentioned it, so I wondered if you remembered…” Chen gave her a little smile. “My wife can’t go with me this year, so I thought if you wanted, we could go…” Chen grinned. “I’m dressing up as a fairy.” 

Harleen’s eyes brightened. “You know, that might be fun. Okay...I’ll go.” 

Chen grinned and stood up. “Great. Oh, and if you want to bring Bruce Wayne with you, that’s fine, we can go as his dates.” She chuckled. “My wife will really be jealous then.” 

Harleen laughed. “Are you trying to make her jealous?” 

Chen shrugged. “Maybe a little. She works in the DA’s office and has been putting in way too many hours and if she is putting in more hours than I am, you know there’s a problem.” Chen walked over to the door and stopped, turned back to smile. “Thanks Harleen. I could have come alone, but it's nice to have someone with you.” 

Harleen smiled back at her. “No problem, thanks for inviting me.” 

After Chen left, Harleen narrowed her eyes. She bet Bruce knew all about the Halloween dance, he just hadn’t said anything to her about it. She wondered why...or he could have forgotten, or he could also have thought it might be ‘too much excitement’ for her. He was looking out for her after all, she supposed, but the more she thought about it the more enjoyable a party sounded, even if it was just a work party. 

She had to admit, the idea of dressing up sounded like it would be fun too! The thought of dressing up in a funny costume made her feel a strange tickle in the pit of her stomach, a mix of excitement, maybe a little sexual tension as well. It was weird she had to admit. Maybe she had a dress up or costume fetish? Sighing with a soft giggle in her tone, Harleen focused back on what she needed to do, which was another form of dressing up. 

Counting to ten by lightly smacking her pen against the paper, Harleen got up and looked out her door. She saw the guard at the end of the hall walk past, followed by two nurses who giggled and looked over their shoulder before disappearing. Harleen frowned for a moment wondering where they were going, but she quickly returned her focus to her own plans. She looked down the hall to the left where she could see the closet door. 

Counting to five, Harleen took off at a quick pace down the hall, her heels in her hands. She figured if anyone looked down the hall and saw her jogging barefoot down the hall to a closet they would think she was crazy, or sneaking away for a smoke. She grinned as she pulled the closet door open, looked down the hall one more time before turning the light on and stepping inside. The closet was a small walk in sort with three sets of shelves on every wall. She saw lots of cleaning materials, toilet paper, paper towels, terry cloth towels...yes!! Harleen grinned, there were five pale blue nurses uniforms folded on a shelf! Harleen had to stifle a cough as she pulled one of the uniforms down, as it was covered in a fine layer of dust and of course, when she checked the size, it was the wrong size. She had to pull two more down, causing a little dust storm in the closet and making herself tear up as she struggled not to cough, before she found what she was looking for. The outfit was still going to be a little big on her in the pants and the top was going to be a bit small around her breasts, and of course her heels, no matter how plain they were, heels didn’t really go (none of the nurses wore heels except for the head nurse.) Most of the nurses wore comfort shoes, like Crocs or athletic shoes, but hopefully no one would notice. 

Harleen changed in the closet, her heart beating wildly the entire time as she worried about being caught. Once she was dressed in the plain light blue scrubs, she pulled her hair down from her bun and fluffed it out before she pulled the fake glasses out of her jacket and plopped them on her nose. 

Taking a deep breath Harleen looked down at herself. “Now, to see if this works,” she muttered before opening the door with no idea how she was going to get herself out of trouble if this didn’t work. She supposed she could wing it. 

Looking out into the hall, Harleen was grateful to see that it was empty. Pulling out her phone, Harleen both made sure her ringer was off and checked the time. She had four and half hours left before quitting time. It was now or never. First she was going to head over to Poison Ivy’s room, and then back to the Joker where she planned on staying until the last possible moment because she felt a strange tug toward him. 

Maybe it was just morbid curiosity since she couldn’t find any records on him, at least not ones she could find since so much of the asylum’s records were cut off from her. Maybe he was just that dangerous! He seemed dangerous just from the few minutes she had spent in his company, but...she didn't know what it was about him, but she wanted to learn more about the Joker. 

She shivered. Even thinking his name gave her goosebumps, but in an exciting sort of way. 

Smirking at herself, Harleen started to walk down the hall with confidence. She had seen a few nurses down this way, but not many and they were usually looking for Dr. Chen or some other doctor who had decided to use the lounge on this floor. They always walked like they were in a hurry, so taking a deep breath Harleen started to walk with that same briskness in her step. 

Once Harleen had reached the hall, she turned to make her way down the hall to the door that led to the stairwell. She had thought about the elevator, but she felt nervous about being caught in the elevator with a bunch of people and someone realizing she wasn't a nurse. 

The guard looked up from his phone, looking completely surprised. “Oh hey, I didn’t see you…” 

Harleen smiled. “Sorry, I have a tendency to move quietly.” 

The guard smiled. “Hey, no problem.” 

She smiled back and continued to pass him as casually as she could. If he recognized her the guard gave no indication. He looked up as Harleen pulled the door to the stairwell open. “Elevators make me nervous,” she said as an explanation to which the guard nodded. 

“Feel ya.” Then he went back to his phone. 

Once she passed the door, Harleen broke out into a wide grin, taking the stairs two at a time.


	6. Hidden Sentiments

Whereas Joker’s was kept in a cell in the basement of Block 14 of the asylum, Poison Ivy’s cell was kept in the basement section of Block 9--which meant Harleen had a lot of stairs to run down and up if she was going to get over to see this Poison Ivy, then run over to see Joker this afternoon. 

So many stairs, she moaned to herself. 

Well Harleen thought, if nothing else she would be getting a lot of exercise, no desk belly for her! 

It had taken Harleen two stairwells and a double back to find the correct section of the basement. The layout consisted of a hallway that opened out from the stairwell (which was right next to the elevator.) The hall she stepped out into had but one room with a door that was open slightly. Past the door she could see the cell area. 

Harleen cursed to herself wondering if the room was a guard station, or maybe nurses...but as she crept slowly closer, she didn’t hear anything, no sound at all in fact, giving her hope that no one was in the room. When she arrived at the door she pressed her back to the wall and listened. Nothing. Frowning, Harleen eased her head around the doorframe only to find that it wasn’t a room at all, but a storage closet with only a few cleaning supplies in it and nothing else. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding. 

Just as with Joker, there were no guards down here. if Joker was to be believed--and she had no reason to doubt him--the cameras didn’t work either. She wondered how many other dangerous cuts the asylum had made in order to cut operation costs. Keeping dangerous, insane criminals here, but with no surveillance equipment, no guards? This was a hospital rather than a prison, but it still felt as if the asylum should have more security, unless they just didn’t have the money for it. A possibility, she realized, because of the cost of equipment, doctors, and medicine, hospitals didn’t always receive the same amount of money a prison might receive from the state or city. And as far as Harleen knew, there was no private asylum business like there were with prisons. She shook her head at the stupidity, but it was acting in her favor right now so she wasn’t going to call anyone out about it. 

Pressing her lips together, her heart beating loudly, and her hands sweating as she worried about being caught, Harleen moved toward the hall with the cells. The overhead lights didn’t provide a lot of light, and as she looked around Harleen noticed no lightswitch which meant the lights were probably on some sort of computer timing system, coming on and going off automatically. The weak urine yellow light did show her that the hallway ended in a dead end just like the map on her computer had shown her. So if anyone was to escape their cell, they only had one way to go. Might have helped if they had guards down here or working cameras, but whatever Harleen thought with a huff. Though she supposed the locks on the rooms were the most important defense against escape, along with regimens of therapy and drugs. Arkham being on an island helped too she supposed. Unless a patient stole a car or a boat, they couldn’t get off the island without swimming. 

Moving slowly, Harleen slipped into the short hall. The map of the asylum showed her that the hall contained six cells, three on each side. She had seen something about “special rooms” on the map, but she had no idea what that had meant, but now that she was down here she could see what “special rooms” was all about. 

Walking quietly, trying to keep her shoes from clicking against the limonium floor too loudly, Harleen looked into each cell that she passed. The cells didn’t come equipped with a regular old fashioned asylum-type door like in Joker’s cell that required a real, old fashioned type key. No, these were all transparent hightech doors with sliding card locks that allowed anyone to look inside, like a sealed animal displays at the reptile house at the zoo (of course these weird high tech cells might explain the lack of money for other things.) The clear doors had a speaker for communicating with the patient, and a small box that was kept locked on the outside. The boxes were just big enough to allow a tray of food to be put into them and sealed again before the other side of the box would open for the patient. Unlike on a normal floor in the asylum, each of these cells/rooms was unique, not just in how they looked, but in function as well. As Harleen passed by, she saw that one cell looked like a giant ice box, the walls were covered in ice as was the floor and ceiling. The light in the room was a dull, icy blue making Harleen think of what the inside of an igloo might look like. There was a bed attached to the wall, toilet, sink, and nothing else. Putting her hand up against the clear glass door, Harleen gasped in surprise, yanking her hand back. The transparent door was so cold that touching the surface burned.

Looking down at her hand Harleen saw that her fingertips had a little film of frost on them. She grimaced and stuck her hand under her arm to warm it up. Continuing to move slowly (she knew she needed to be fast, but she just couldn’t seem to make herself move faster at the moment), Harleen walked down the short hall, away from the ice box cell and glanced up at the cameras that were in the corners of the hall, noticed that the lights that indicated if the cameras were on wasn’t glowing. That didn’t necessarily mean anything, but… Joker’s words about the cameras came back to her, that they only worked in the public sections of the asylum or when bigshots were there for a publicity stunt. She knew she probably shouldn’t trust a criminally insane patient, especially one they thought of as dangerous enough to be in solitary, but she found that she did believe him, that she believed Joker completely. Which meant these cameras probably didn’t work either. She made a face at one of the cameras before she moved again. She was betting on the clown not lying to her, and she felt confident for some reason that he hadn’t. 

The next cell looked as if it was designed to hold a monster, or perhaps an animal, because the room reminded Harleen a little bit of a display at the zoo--a piss poor zoo that liked to use chains and manacles that she could see on the back wall and attached to the floor. There were plants in the cell, but as Harleen narrowed her eyes studying them she could see they were plastic. The cell had a dip in the floor with a tiny pool of water and no bunk. Whoever lived in this room when they were here would have to lie on the damp concrete floor. 

Harleen shuddered. 

She continued to move on, looking in each cell even though she knew the one she wanted was at the end of the hall. Each of the other cells held unique features that made Harleen particularly curious about Poison Ivy’s cell since it was clear each of these six cells were designed to hold extraordinary individuals. 

Finally Harleen arrived at the only occupied cell down here, Poison Ivy’s. 

Looking in, Harleen saw that unlike the other cells, this one didn’t seem to have much that made it unique. She saw a plain concrete floor, a concrete slab jutting from the wall that served as a bed, a pillow, and a couple of blankets piled on top of the slab, and that was it. The cell had the typical toilet and sink, but otherwise the cell was a dull, grey nothing; bare, cold concrete with very little comfort. Almost as bad as Joker’s cell. 

In the middle of the cell dressed in an Arkham Asylum orange jumpsuit sat a beautiful woman. Her skin was a lovely shade of yellow green, her hair such a vibrant shade of red that it looked unnatural, but at the same time natural on this woman. Her hair was wild, reminding Harleen of vines as it cascaded down the woman’s shoulders. She was sitting in the middle of the room, her legs folded cross-legged, her eyes closed, her hair hanging down to hide some of her face. 

Harleen frowned as she stared at the woman. She felt something, she couldn’t be sure, but her heart thumped hard and the urge to hug the other woman felt strong, like she had just found a long lost sister. 

“Hello?” Harleen reached up and lightly drummed her fingers against the clear door. The green skinned woman’s head shot up and she stared at Harleen. 

Harleen saw that she had vivid green eyes and lips almost as red as Joker’s. When she stared at Harleen the other woman’s eyes widened as she hopped to her feet, making Harleen go stiff with a combination of emotions, from excitement, to fear, to a strange sensation of deja vu. 

* 

Ivy had been meditating, trying to calm herself. Being in Arkham was always difficult for her, being cut off from her plants, from the sun, the fresh air. It was worse than torture for her, but she was here with a purpose, to save her best friend. She had agreed to Joker’s plan to save Harley and she was going to do it! She just needed to find her calm right now. Breathing slowly through her nose, she conjured to mind the fresh smell of her plants and the feel of clean water when she heard the rap on her door. She looked up and her heart nearly leapt into her throat. 

“Harley!!!” she gasped loudly. 

Joker had warned her not to frighten Harley, to be careful, because they didn’t know what they were going to find when they got into Arkham, but when Poison Ivy saw her friend, her sister in every way but blood, she couldn’t help the rush of relief at seeing her. Ivy was on her feet and dashed to the door before she could stop herself. “Harley!!” she cried out again even though she knew Harley probably couldn’t hear her unless she used the damned speaker in the door. 

* 

Harleen backstepped so quickly she almost tripped over her own feet when the green woman unexpectedly rushed the door. The woman on the other side of the door pressed her hands against the clear material staring at her with a sort of desperation. The green-skinned woman was beautiful, even more beautiful than Harleen had first realized. Her eyes were large and vivid green, her lips a rose red, almost like a fairytale princess--except for the green skin. Harleen would have thought meeting a man with skin the color of snow and a woman with green skin would freak her out more, but a little part of her felt comfortable with their strange skin colors. Like it was something she came across everyday. 

Harleen watched as the other woman pointed frantically at the speaker. Walking over slowly, feeling hesitant for only a moment, Harleen pushed the speaker button. The woman’s voice came through clearly. 

“Harley!!” 

Harleen frowned. Her hands were sweaty and she wiped one down her hip as she held her other hand to the button to keep the speaker on. “My name is Harleen. You’re Poison Ivy correct?” Ivy felt her heart skip a beat, Harley really didn’t remember did she..? “Yes, but I’m also known as Dr. Pamela Isley.” She smiled gently at her friend, trying to ease Harley’s obvious unease. Harleen tilted her head. “I tried to find your file, but most of it was redacted, at least the copy I was able to get a hold of. Um, you can talk to plants? Control them?” 

Ivy frowned, rubbing her lips together, and wondered for a moment how best to play this. Harley was staring at her with a funny expression on her face, as if she were struggling with something. It was clear by her reaction that Harley didn’t recognize her, or at least didn’t recognize her enough to just simply get her memory back. Ivy felt her throat constrict and tears stung her eyes. This was worse than she had imagined! If she had access to her plants she might be able to come up with something to help bring Harley’s memories back...maybe. But like this… 

Ivy struggled for a moment to control her emotions until she was finally able to put on a fake smile for Harley. “Well, I’ve done a lot of stuff in the name of saving plants. Probably too much to fit in a file, but yes, I can control and communicate with plants.” She thought about adding that Harley should know that, but she didn’t. Fuck, if she had a degree in psychology she might know the best way to do this, how to handle telling Harley that she knew her, that they were best friends, more than just friends--they were sisters! But right now Harley looked so frightened, so confused that Ivy decided maybe she should just play it safe, although she wasn’t going to lie to Harley either. If Harley asked her a direct question, Ivy was going to answer it. 

Continuing to stand still by the speaker, Harleen looked so confused that it physically hurt Ivy to look at her. She didn’t usually feel much toward Joker (other than irritation), but Ivy knew this had to be killing the clown. At this moment Ivy felt for him. Seeing Harley like this was hurting her and she could only imagine what his pain was like. The clown was a lot of things, but Ivy could never doubt his love for Harley. He would die for her, Ivy was sure of that. 

Pressing her lips together, Ivy had to wonder if Joker was going to be able to hold himself together to get Harley back. That man teetered on the edge of complete insanity at the best of times, but this had to have thrown him over the edge. All he could do now was hope not to drown before they got Harley back. Ivy almost laughed at that. She was worried about the Joker? The world really was topsy-turvy and chaotic. 

Instead of asking more questions about her claim to control plants, Harleen heard herself ask in a soft voice. “Do I know you?” The tone of her voice was almost child-like in her confusion, sounding lost, and maybe a little afraid. 

Ivy smiled, pressing her hands against the door, only now noticing that Harley was dressed as a nurse, not a doctor. Interesting. She so much wanted to wrap her arms around Harley and tell her everything was all right, that she and Joker were here to bring her home. 

Instead she murmured, “You do know me.” 

Harleen frowned and the confusion in her gaze was like a stab to Ivy’s heart. “How do I know you?” 

“We’re friends,” Ivy said softly. 

Harleen’s frown deepened as she removed her hand from the speaker, which made Ivy curse under her breath. She watched as Harley took a few steps back, just staring at her before she turned and hurried away. Ivy banged on the door. She couldn’t help herself as she yelled, her voice muffled by the door. 

“HARLEY!!” 

Ivy watched her only friend in the world run away from her. Slowly Ivy thunked her forehead against the door as Harley disappeared. “Stupid, stupid, you scared her.” She sighed feeling sad, dejected, and most of all, stupid. She shook her head and scowled as she turned and walked back to sit down again in the middle of her dank cell. She could only imagine what Joker must be going through. Ivy felt genuinely sorry for that psychotic clown. And Harley, her friend, had looked so lost and confused that Ivy’s heart ached for her. 

Crossing her legs again, Ivy focused on calming herself so that she could deal with her current situation. 

Harley would come again, she was sure of it, she just had to wait. 

* 

Harleen heard Poison Ivy banging on her cell door, but she didn’t hear anything else as she raced up the stairs her heart thumping hard, the sound a heavy rushing in her ears. She couldn’t breathe, grabbing at her throat Harleen felt like she was choking for a moment. She stumbled up the stairs once she had burst into the stairwell before she stopped and sat down, gasping for air in rapid, shallow gulps. Hyperventilating, that was what she was doing. She was hyperventilating she told herself. Just calm down and breathe. 

For the next few seconds, Harleen focused on her breathing and slowing her heart rate. Breathe through her nose, out through her mouth. After a few more seconds she felt calmer, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, very wrong. 

* 

What seemed like forever passed as she sat there on the cold step. Harleen wasn’t sure how long it took her to get herself together, all she did was focus on her breath until her heart rate slowed and she felt stable. She wasn’t sure why Poison Ivy had bothered her so much. She guessed it wasn’t just her, but the fact that there was a second patient here who claimed to know her, or in Joker’s case at least acted as if he knew her. Ivy had said she knew her, and she called her Harley of all things… 

There was no way she knew Ivy or Joker beyond being patients, Harleen tried to convince herself, trying to ignore that nagging voice that said she was missing something, missing something important. 

While Harleen was sure as a doctor here at the asylum she would have known of the Joker and Poison Ivy--even if she didn’t seem to remember--something didn’t feel complete. There was more, she felt it, like a nagging, scratching at the back of her mind. It was as if there were things hiding behind a curtain where she could only see shadows, moving, undulating shadows that teased her with things she didn’t remember. Those shadows were memories, she was sure of it, but each time she thought she had moved the curtain aside, the shadows and what they represented evaporated, leaving more questions and anxiety. 

Harleen felt a tight knot in her stomach that kept rolling around, twisting, making her feel ill, making her feel unbalanced. Something just wasn’t right, but Harleen didn’t know what it was!! She took another few breaths before she pulled out her cellphone to check her time. She had three and a half hours to get to the other ward and down the stairs to see Joker. 

The thought of seeing Joker made her heart race with excitement. Standing up, Harleen quickly took the stairs and headed for her next destination. 

* 

Lying on his back against his cot, his bare feet up against the wall, and wearing only his pants, Joker tossed a roll from his lunch up into the air and caught it again. Back and forth, the squished up roll flew up into the air, then came back down for him to catch. He had scared the nurse that brought his lunch, hiding by the door so that when she slipped the tray in, he jumped up and slammed his hands against the door, pressing his face against the tiny window and yelled at the top of his lungs. 

“BOO!!” 

The young nurse had screamed and took off at a run. It was hilarious!! But the humor had died almost immediately when he thought about how funny Harley would have found that. He could see Harley laughing, her light blue eyes twinkling with mischief. That sweet, sexy laugh, he could hear her laugh in his dreams, the sound tickling down his spine. That led his mind to thoughts of her naked, lying in bed beside him, curling his hair around her fingers with that lazy, after sex glow in her eyes and smile. The feel of her fingers brushing against his chest, the warm press of her lips on his mouth, on his body... 

Joker bit his bottom lip thinking about his fingertips sliding along her waist and hip, her skin warm and glowing, Harley curling up naked against his side, wrapping her arm around his waist...her cheek against his chest, the warmth of her breath against his skin. Protecting him...loving him, just as he loved her. 

He could hear her voice whispering. “I love you puddin…” 

He closed his eyes and a couple of tears slowly leaked from under his lashes. Protect him, he realized, love him--but he had failed to protect her. Trying to hold himself together was proving difficult. Madness wanted to consume him completely, to leave nothing behind. He felt as if his heart had been scooped out and ripped to shreds, as if there was nothing of him left but a ghost who was playing at being alive. 

He knew if he couldn’t win her back he would plunge into a madness, into a violent madness like Gotham had never seen. He wouldn’t even be Joker anymore, but something else... 

The sigh that issued from his lips was almost painful. The ache he felt was a physical reminder of what he had lost, a black hole in the middle of his chest, sucking everything away until it drew the last of him in, and he fell apart like a broken toy. The pain pulled that hole in his chest wider and he knew he needed his Harley. He loved her with every part of himself, with everything that he was, he loved his Harley Quinn. She was the only person that kept him from spiraling completely into the blinding rage of total madness, and being without her felt as if all the joy of life, all the fun, all the humor had been sucked away. He found nothing funny without her, nothing worth living for if Harley wasn’t at his side to share in it. Without her, nothing would be the same and there would be no point in going on. If that ugly possibility became his reality, Joker decided he would make sure Gotham City got to share in his grief, that Batman would feel every moment, every tear Joker cried for Harley. They would know what it felt like to have half one’s soul ripped from them, he’d make damn sure of it. 

When Joker killed himself, he was taking Gotham and Batman with him. It would be a special set of events like Gotham had never seen before--and never would again. 

Closing his eyes trying to chase off his dangerously self-destructive mood, Joker continued to toss his roll into the air. The repetitive motion was helping him keep from fidgeting too much. The doctor had been down here this morning, some new guy that Joker had never met. He tried to psychobabble him and then spoke about medication they could try, blah, blah, blah. Same old song and dance. 

The guy had finally given up and left after Joker stuck his fingers in his ears and started to sing at the top of his voice, “Learn to Croon” like he was Alfalfa from the Little Rascals--which meant off pitch and as high as his voice could go until even he was shocked that he hadn’t broken a glass! He’d give the new guy this, though...he lasted a lot longer than Joker would have thought before he finally gave up and ran off, his hands over his ears. 

Nerd, Joker thought dismissively, continuing to toss the roll of bread like a ball. 

Thinking of the song Joker started to sing, first humming, then slowly flowing into singing. Singing always served to calm him down. Harley would often sing to him, he thought before closing his eyes and fighting off the tears. His girl had the most beautiful voice. 

Slowly, he began to sing, but this time he was trying to actually sing rather than drive off a noob shrink. The song came out soft and smooth. Harley always told him he had an excellent voice and who was he to disagree with her? 

“Learn to croon 

If you want to win your heart's desire 

Sweet melodies of love inspire 

Romance 

Just murmur da da dee da da da 

And when you do 

She'll answer da da dee da da 

And nestle closer to you…” 

* 

In the stairwell Harleen stopped her mad rush down the stairs, the key she had stolen gripped in her trembling, sweaty hand. It had been far too easy for her to get the key. All she had to do was flutter her eyelashes, act like a dumb blonde, kick up a southern accent, and the two orderlies who looked like they would have been more comfortable on a high school football team, were eating it up. A little sleight-of-hand (a skill, until that moment, Harleen didn’t realize she had) and she had a key! 

Holding the key like it might leap out of her hand, Harleen cocked her head to the side like a puppy, her mouth slightly open in surprise. Was that singing she could hear? 

Breathing heavily since she had run nearly all the way here (even though no one was chasing her), made hearing difficult. Harleen forced herself to move slower down the stairs, letting her breathing calm, listening as she came down each step. The song sounded familiar, though it was lost on her from where. With gentle care, she opened the door that led to solitary, slipped in and stopped for a moment. The entire, dimly lit hall was filled with the wonderful voice, a smooth, beautiful voice… 

Harleen blinked in surprise. It was Joker singing! 

She walked down the hall slowly, listening as he continued to sing. 

“Learn to croon 

You'll eliminate each rival soon 

If you're heading for a sunny honeymoon 

Learn to croon… 

Harleen stepped quietly up to his door and pushed up on her toes to look inside. She could barely see Joker, but from what she could see of him, Joker looked as if he was lying on his back, his legs up against the wall while tossing something into the air. Her heart felt as if it tripled in beat, her hands becoming even sweatier, her breath ragged when she saw him. She thought that was completely weird. Why was she having such an intense reaction to this man? Fear? That wasn’t it...so what was it then? Pressing her lips together, trying to lift herself a little higher onto her toes, Harleen watched him tossing what looked like a small ball while he sang. She shifted her position a little, which gave her a better look at his pale chest, the slender lines that led to a flat stomach. He looked too skinny at the moment. She could tell that he was usually more filled out. He looked as if he were recovering from an illness, the thought of which made her a little queasy, but that did nothing to detract from how attractive he was... 

Pausing, Harleen slowly lowered herself back down to the flats of her feet with a look of mild confusion on her face. Now why did she think that? No, she felt in her bones that she knew that was correct, that Joker was a slim man, but he was all wiry muscles. Right now, he looked as if he had been ill, hadn’t been eating. She knew in her gut that was true even as the same thought made her feel sick with worry for him... 

But why? 

Driving the thought away with a physical shake of her head, Harleen sucked on her bottom lip and raised herself back up on her toes to look inside. Joker was still lying on his back tossing something up and catching it while he sang. Frowning, her eyes narrowed for a moment while trying to figure out what he was tossing into the air, she had a thought. Harleen dropped down to her knees to lift the flap at the bottom of the door where the food was shoved into the room. She could just barely see a hint of a tray and it looked as if the food hadn’t been touched. She stood back up again and looked in through the window again. 

She hated to interrupt his singing, but… 

“You should be eating your food instead of playing with it.” 

Joker nearly fell off his cot when he rolled toward the door quickly at the sound of her voice. “Harley!” The joy that hearing her voice, of knowing Harley was there, chased away every dark thought that had been plaguing him in an instant. 

Jumping to his feet, Joker just barely stopped himself from running, and instead took a few lazy steps over to the door, as if he had all the time in the world. He looked out the window with a casual smile. “How are you this fine…” He looked around before turning his blue eyes back to her and smiled. “I have no idea what day it is.” He chuckled and gave her a shrug. 

“It’s afternoon,” she replied with a little bit of a smile. 

Joker wrinkled his nose at her. “Blah, I hate the daytime. Give me a good, chilly Gotham night anytime. So, to what do I owe this surprise visit?” He tilted his head and smiled a little wider at her. 

Harleen felt that smile right down to her toes. 

“I said I wanted to help you…” Her voice trailed off a little as Joker chuckled at her. “What?” she asked with just a hint of annoyance in her tone. 

“You know they assigned me a really neat doctor? His name is Dr. Robert Wells. He’s new, did you know that? He promised me all sorts of drugs, some electroshock therapy, and something else….oh yeah, a lobotomy!” Joker laughed and he leaned against the door. “He’s a real fun guy, though he might have been a little upset with me when he said the last bit about the lobotomy. 

Some people just don’t appreciate my singing.” He snickered. 

Harleen made a face. “We don’t do lobotomies anymore. I think the last one was in 1967.” 

Joker chuckled and leaned a little heavier against the door. “Do you really believe that? Here of all places? Arkham Asylum believes in the most modern medicine to help with all us crazy people, but they still like to bring out the old methods for some of us special patients.” He waggled his green eyebrows at her. “Those of us deemed incurable.” 

“That’s not true…” Harleen murmured. There wasn’t much conviction in her voice, but there was doubt. 

Joker smiled again. “Well let’s not talk about that, let's discuss why you are here.” 

“Like I said, I want to help you,” Harleen explained again before she held up the key for him to see. “If I open your door do you swear not to try to escape or attack me?” 

Joker stared at the key for several seconds. She had done it. Harley had stolen the key to his cell!! The smile that had been on his lips from the moment he saw her grew as he stepped back from the door. 

“You have my word Harley.” 

Harleen had no idea why she trusted him, but when he gave her his word, Harleen believed him. Looking back toward the stairs, Harleen slipped the old metal key into the lock. It was a lot harder to turn than she thought it would be. She had to lean into it, but she flipped the key and heard the ancient lock turn, the door popping open an inch. Slowly Harleen pulled the door open and slipped inside. 

Joker had retreated to his cot and was sitting on the edge of it, fairly buzzing with manic energy. The air vibrated with it, almost like a drug, and she could feel his energy moving over her skin. 

And, to her mild surprise, it wasn’t unpleasant at all. 

Keeping a watchful eye on him, Harleen walked over Joker’s uneaten lunch to the opposite wall and pressed her back against it while Joker remained seated. His knuckles had gone almost transparent with how tightly he was holding the edge of the bed. Harleen didn’t know that if he didn’t hold on to the bed he would have thrown himself at her. If he had her in his arms he wouldn’t be able to let go. 

Joker smiled tightly, his legs bouncing with excess energy and his need to grab Harley and escape--two things he couldn’t do...not yet. Not until he really had her back. He struggled with controlling his energy, controlling his need to put his arms around her and kiss her, to have his Harley fill that hole she had left behind in his soul. 

“So Dollface, whatcha wanna talk about? How are you going to help me?” Joker beamed up at her, his legs continuing to bounce. 

Harleen worried at the corner of her bottom lip as she studied Joker. She had no idea why she was down here really. She had been so focused on seeing him, then Poison Ivy, and stealing a key, now that she was here she had no idea what she wanted to do. Her body felt tight with tension, ready to flee or fight him if necessary, but as Harleen watched him Joker didn’t move in a threatening way at all. Instead she thought, he honestly looked desperate, deeply sad even, especially around the eyes. She noted that even his smile didn’t seem to have the same brilliance that it should. He looked like a man balanced on a razor’s edge. 

Harleen’s gaze ran over the pale man’s torso. He was definitely too thin; she was going to have to make sure he ate, she thought to herself. His skin was milk white in color, almost like clown makeup, pure snow white. The urge to touch him, to see the contrast between their skin tones, was a strong enough urge that Harleen put her hands behind her back and balled them into fists. She liked his lips too, naturally a dark red, but when he painted them, widening his smile with a brush of lipstick, she really loved that! He would smile and everything would melt away except for his red lips and white teeth. It was the same with his hair, thick green curls falling over his forehead. He usually wore his hair brushed back, but there was always a curl or two that escaped to fall across his forehead. His hair was soft, she knew that… 

Harleen quickly looked down at her feet. Where did those thoughts come from, she asked herself in a panic as her heart rate quickened. Her hands became sweaty again and even the tips of her damn ears were burning! 

“Why are you bouncing your legs? Are you nervous?” she asked while trying to calm herself, redirect her attention away from his physical appearance, focus on the patient who needed help and not the man. If she was going to do this, Harleen told herself she needed to just charge ahead. She was a trained psychiatrist and he was a patient, a man in need, and for whatever reason Harleen felt that she was the one to help him. Maybe help Poison Ivy too, Harleen thought. She needed to find out what Poison Ivy meant when she said she knew her, find out why the green woman was in Arkham. 

Harleen’s attention was brought back to Joker, who spoke softly. “Maybe I am nervous. Not often does a fellow like me get to talk to a pretty girl like you Dollface.” Joker grinned brightly at her. 

Harleen blushed looking down at her shoes before she spoke again. “It’s Dr. Quinzel, or Harleen.” 

Joker smiled and nodded. “Okie dokie--Harleen. So, what do you want to talk about?” He tilted his head, smiling at her. He could feel himself calming down a little; talking to her helped so much. 

Harleen pressed her lips together, unsure how to proceed, which was why she fell back on a typical psychiatrist question. “Tell me about your parents.” 

Joker laughed rocking back on his cot. “My parents? Really? What would you like to hear, how my daddy beat me while my mother loved me, but couldn't protect me, couldn’t protect herself? Or maybe I was kicked out, put in an orphanage because neither one of my parents wanted me. Or maybe my parents were killed right in front of me and from that point on my life was never the same. 

Or how I ran away to join the circus…” Joker grinned, wrinkling his nose playfully at her. “Is that what you want to know?” 

Harleen narrowed her eyes at him, her lips set in a thin lip. She was clearly not amused. “If you aren’t going to take this seriously, then I’ll just leave.” 

She turned and started to walk toward the door, but Joker jumped up and grabbed her hand. “Please don’t go.” His voice was trembling with fear and desperation. 

His hold on her hand was too tight, painful, but Harleen stopped. His touch was like an electrical jolt through her system, a jolt she didn’t understand and couldn’t process. She yanked her hand away from him and he let her go without a struggle. She turned around to face him. He was standing so close she could smell the scent of his skin, feel the heat radiating off him. The attraction she felt was like being hit with a sledgehammer, it was hard and hot, racing through her system like a locomotive. She sucked in a startled breath as she stared back at him. 

“Please don’t go yet,” Joker begged her, his voice soft. Emotion gave his tone a gentle tremble. “I’ll be good. I promise.” He slowly brought his hand up and used one long, elegant finger to cross over his heart. “Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.” 

Harleen swallowed, trying to pull her professional mask down, but she did smile a little. “All right, but no more jokes.” 

Joker grinned hopping on the balls of his feet. “Not even little ones?” He stuck his bottom lip out until Harleen couldn’t help but giggle ,pointing at him with her finger. “Fine, little jokes are allowed, but not when I ask you serious questions. Now go sit down.” She pointed at his cot because she needed him to back away before she reached out and touched him. The intensity of her physical attraction to the man scared her. 

Joker quickly raced over and dropped down on his bed, legs crossed, hands grabbing his ankles as he smiled brightly like a child who had just been told they would be told an extra story before bed. “Okay doc, my parents. Honestly? I have no idea.” He grinned reaching up to rap his knuckles against the side of his head. “I don’t remember anything about them.” He shrugged before adding, 

“Maybe I just appeared out of someone’s head like Venus?” Giggling, he rocked on his bed. 

“Really?” Harleen looked shocked. “You don’t remember anything? No childhood memories? No family? Nothing?” 

Nodding, Joker murmured, his voice softer. “I don’t actually have any memories of my childhood. I don’t remember being an awkward teenager, I don’t remember learning to drive or my first bicycle. Nothing, nada, zippo!” He made an explosion against the side of his head with his fingers. 

“That’s so interesting,” Harleen murmured. “Nothing at all.” 

Joker shook his head. 

“So what are your first memories?” She slowly slid down the wall into a crouch. 

Joker frowned, continuing to rock. “Pain. I remember pain, but pain and I are old, old friends. Pain is the one thing I’ve always been able to feel when everything else is numb.” He looked up slowly, his gaze catching hers. 

Harleen tilted her head gazing at him, their eyes locked. She could see the pain in his gaze, a depth of pain like nothing she had ever seen before. How much pain had this man been through she wondered. 

She was about to ask him another question when her phone suddenly went off. 

Harleen sprang to her feet with a yelp, yanking her phone out of her pocket. “I have to go,” she said as she looked down at it. “I set myself an alarm so I’d have enough time to get back upstairs and change….” 

Joker dragged his teeth over his bottom lip before he asked, “Will you come back tomorrow Harleen?” 

Harleen had started for the door when she stopped and turned around. Joker hadn’t moved from his cot, his hands still wrapped around his ankles, but the expression on his face broke her heart. 

She smiled and nodded. “Yes. I’ll be back tomorrow. Not sure when, but I promise.” 

Joker’s smile made her heart skip a beat. “I look forward to it Harleen.” 

Harleen blushed and hurried out of the room, turning to lock the door behind her. 

Joker didn’t move, looking at where she had been, but he whispered in a choked voice. 

“I love you Harley.” 

* 

That evening Alfred was cooking for her and Bruce at her apartment, creamy Tuscan chicken and it smelled divine. On the table between her and Bruce sat a bouquet of pink roses he had brought her when he picked her up from work, a gift to brighten her day he had said. 

Harleen groaned softly. She had showered and was wearing her bathrobe and a pair of flannel pajamas, her damp hair braided over her shoulder, as Bruce rubbed her shoulders. 

“Rough day?” he asked with a smile, ignoring the warning looks that Alfred kept giving him from Harleen’s kitchen. 

Harleen stiffened a fraction before she replied. “Ah, just a lot of running around from one file cabinet to the next…” 

Bruce nodded his understanding. “Well, getting back to work after your ordeal has to be difficult.” 

Harleen nodded reaching for her glass of wine that Bruce had poured her moments before. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head before he walked back over to his chair and sat, picking up his own glass of wine while Harleen took three quick gulps of her own. Lying was easy she realized, but she still felt a little bad lying to Bruce. 

“Anything you want to talk about?” Bruce asked with an encouraging smile. 

“Nah, all of it's boring, though Dr. Chen invited me to the Halloween party Friday.” Harleen lifted her brows at him across the table. 

“Oh.” Bruce paled. “I...I forgot…” 

“Really?” Harleen asked, taking another sip of her wine, her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Or did you just not want me to go?” 

“No Harleen, I did forget.” He smiled at her. “That’s tomorrow night, correct?” 

Harleen nodded slowly. “I said I would go with Dr. Chen since her wife can’t make it…” 

“Would you mind having two dates?” Bruce asked. “I can grab us some costumes tomorrow…” 

Bruce set his wine down. “Please?” He smiled at her looking like a little boy, batting his lashes at her as he begged for forgiveness. 

Harleen laughed at him. “Fine, but I want something pretty.” 

“Pretty it is,” Bruce promised with a grin. 

Harleen wrinkled her nose at him before she giggled, adding before she sipped her wine. “Maybe something with a clown theme…” 

Bruce went still, his hand frozen just as he was about to pick up his wine glass again, though Harleen didn’t seem to notice, having turned her attention to ask Alfred how much longer until dinner because she was dying of hunger. 

A clown? 

He shuddered hoping that wasn’t her memories returning and just a vague request. He would get her something else...maybe a princess costume, or a fairy. But never a clown. 

Speaking of clowns... 

* 

Joker was trying to sleep, but it was difficult. He couldn’t stop his mind from focusing on Harley. After a bit, he decided to stop fighting the memories and instead go through them, finding a favorite and focusing on that, one of the nights they had stayed home in bed instead of going out to mess with Gotham. 

He remembered making love, Harley straddling him, her hands on his chest caressing him tenderly while she moved, her hips grinding down on him. The light in their hideout had danced across her soft, silk smooth skin. He remembered every detail of her body, the smell of her skin, the taste of her on his tongue, but as always it was her smile, the way her eyes lit up as she looked down at him, her blonde hair hanging down like a curtain of gold when she leaned down to kiss him. 

His eyes closed, Joker reached up and touched his lips, remembering the feel of her kiss… 

“I know you’re awake,” a flat emotionless voice growled. 

Joker’s eyes flew open and he rolled over onto his side to see Batman standing in his cell. 

Laughing, Joker pushed himself up. “Well, well well, lookie who came for a visit.” 

“I’m here to give you a warning Joker,” Batman growled again, continuing with the flat inflection he usually had. 

Joker dropped his feet over the side of his cot. “Oh? And what sort of warning are you here to give me Batsy? That you miss me? Do you need a hug?” Joker held his arms out. “Well come here big boy, Uncle Joker gives the best hugs and I promise not to grab your ass.” 

Batman’s only response was to growl again, which sent Joker into a titter of giggles as he rocked back and kicked his feet. “Oh Batsy, you are always so fun!” 

“I came here to tell you something then, instead of a warning. I know you deliberately got yourself put into Arkham this time, but it won’t do you any good…” Batman said in his best snarl, not moving from where he stood. “Harley Quinn is gone for good. You’ll never get her back.” 

Joker went still, narrowing his eyes dangerously at Batman. “You don’t know that Batsy, you don’t know anything.” 

“I know this: she is beyond your reach now. She is back to being Dr. Harleen Quinzel. She is safe, protected and l...she has someone to care for...” Batman caught himself, almost letting Bruce Wayne out, instead adding the emotion in his voice only a quiver as he fought to control his tone. “And she is on the path back to the life she should have had before you destroyed her, twisted her into your puppet.” 

“You must not be feeling as confident as usual or you wouldn’t be here warning me…” Joker chuckled with sarcasm before he waggled a finger at Batman, a smile playing across his lips. “That’s something you never did understand about Harley and me Bats. I never manipulated her, not once. Everything she did, Harley did because she wanted to, but then again, you wouldn’t know about that would you because you don’t know Harley the way I do. She sees the dark underbelly of life, of Gotham, she knows what the world is like, she knows nothing matters but me and her…” 

“Well, you no longer matter to her,” Batman added with a hiss, emotion leaking into his voice. 

Joker was on his feet and at Batman’s throat in an instant. Batman was caught off guard, Joker had moved swiftly. He hit Batman with all his strength forcing Batman against the wall, but he brought his arms up and broke Joker’s hold on him before slamming his fist into the side of Joker’s head. 

Joker went down, stumbling back until he hit the cot. When he looked up at Batman, there was blood leaking from his lips and nose. “Now that’s a lot of rage there Bats...what are you hiding?” Joker’s eyes flashed before they narrowed again, his smile vanishing. “You want her, don’t you?” 

Batman growled down at Joker. “Stay down.” 

“That’s why you came here, to warn me away from her because you want her, isn’t that it? You lay a hand on her Bats, everything I’ve done up until now will look like a party…” Joker slowly rose to his feet, blood dripping from his nose and chin. “You lay a hand on her and you’ll wish that you believed in killing because I will take everything from you Bats...I’ll hurt everything and everyone you care about...I’ll tear Gotham City down around you…” Joker wiped the blood from his nose with the back of his hand as he sat back down on his cot, leveling a cold smile at the other man. 

“No you won’t Joker, because you’ll never leave here,” Batman hissed, his voice once more lacked emotion. “Never again.” 

“Oh, I think I will and when I go, Harley will be with me. Mark my words Batman.” Joker’s voice was a low, intense growl. “Then there is going to be hell to pay.” 

The two men stared at each other until Batman threw a pellet to the floor. The small room filled with smoke. Joker coughed, his eyes watering. The room cleared in a matter of seconds, but when it did Joker saw that Batman was gone. 

“Run Bats...I’ll be coming for you--just you wait.” Joker hissed into the darkness of his room. “My Harley will be by my side…” Joker purred. “...where she belongs.”


	7. Delusions

Friday morning dawned cold and rainy. 

Harleen had slept terribly, her dreams disjointed, more like memories rather than dreams. Joker was in most of her dreams, laughing, smiling, holding her hand, and a few times his face seemed to loom in her vision, but his expression wasn’t the maniacal clown. It had been something...else… 

Either way Joker’s presence in her dreams that night didn’t frighten Harleen. Instead, his presence in her dreams felt comforting. 

The frightening parts of her dreams had been the ones in which a giant human-sized bat had appeared. Along with the bat came the whispers, voices whispering to her just loud enough she could tell it was a female voice or voices, but not so loud she could make out what was being said to her. 

But it was the bat that plagued her nightmares last night that finally woke Harleen up a few minutes before her alarm went off. She woke covered in sweat, the sheets sticking to her, the fine hairs that had come loose from the braid she had put her hair into that night stuck to her skin. The sheets felt soaked through, clinging to her like too many hands, hands that were grabbing at her, trying to hold her down or pull her under. 

Harleen shivered as she peeled the sheets and blankets from her body and sat up. The room felt cold this early in the morning, especially after the warmth of the sheets and blankets. The chill of the room was made worse since she had been sweating during the night. The chill settled over her and felt as if it seeped into her very bones. 

Shivering, Harleen got up and rushed to the bathroom, taking a few minutes to pee and brush her teeth before she hopped into the shower. She had showered last night, but after waking up sweaty she felt gross; she could smell the fear that clung to her skin from the nightmares. 

After showering and washing her hair again, Harleen dressed quickly. Today she chose one of the plain, black pencil skirts in her closet, but she couldn’t shake the chill in her bones even after the hot shoulder she had just taken, prompting her to add a dark blue sweat over the top of her white blouse. She blew her hair dry and pulled it up into a tidy bun and quickly finished her makeup when she heard the knock on her door that told her Bruce had arrived. 

Standing up and slipping on her conservative black heels, Harleen went to the door. Tonight was the Halloween party at the asylum and the idea of dressing up made her smile. 

When Harleen opened her apartment door, she saw Bruce dressed in a nice navy blue suit and gold and blue tie, standing there smiling just a little and holding a clothing bag over his shoulder. 

“Good morning! I brought your costume! I hope you like it. There wasn’t a lot to pick from, seems there’s been a run on costumes this close to Halloween,” Bruce said as a way of a greeting, lifting the garment bag off his shoulder. “I also brought you your favorite breakfast sandwich.” He lifted his other hand showing off the bag from which Harleen could smell the delicious scent of an egg sandwich. 

Harleen stepped back to let him in while grinning. “Yummy!!” She snatched the bag from him as Bruce walked by. He smiled as she added while looking inside the bag, letting out a puff of delicious smells from inside the bag, “I’m sure whatever you picked will be great. Dr. Chen is going as Lady Gaga.” 

Bruce chuckled. “Please say she isn’t wearing the meat dress! I don’t think that would go over well in an asylum.” 

“Ew!” Harleen laughed, taking the garment bag that Bruce handed to her. She walked both bags over to her dining room table, setting the bag with the sandwiches down and held the garment bag up. Now that she could really see the bag, Harleen realized it was huge, bulging as if it could barely keep the outfit inside. She frowned in puzzlement before she pulled the zipper down. 

“Might want to be careful…” Bruce started to say just as Harleen opened the garment bag. 

The dress inside the bag practically exploded when she opened it. The dress was pink, and not just pink, but a vibrant pink. Her eyes widened as she peeled back the garment bag to get a better look at the dress, which was layers and layers of ice silk, butterflies 3D lace, tulle, organza, and gold thread. 

Harleen blinked in surprise while Bruce offered. “It’s a Sleeping Beauty dress.” 

“Wow...ah, that’s…” She tried not to cringe as she concluded, “...a lot of dress.” 

Bruce walked over and gently took the dress from her, held it up. His taller frame and higher reach allowed him to hold the dress up better for Harleen to get a better look. He reached down and fluffed out the skirt some. 

“Wow,” Harleen said softly. The dress would swallow her. 

“I’m Prince Charming, my costume has little knee britches,” Bruce said with a grin that made Harleen laugh. 

“Okay well as least I won’t be the most noticeable thing in the room, everyone’s attention will be on your knees.” 

Bruce chuckled. “Yeah, that would be all over the papers if the press was going to be there.” He put his hands up and spread them out like a headline. “Bruce Wayne’s knees on full display.” 

Harleen laughed and for a moment Bruce heard Harley Quinn in the sound. He stiffened slightly, but said nothing and did his best to keep his smile pasted in place. 

Harleen shook her head smiling as her laughter settled into a gentle giggle. “Thank you for the costume.” 

“No problem. So, are you ready?” he asked as he walked over with the dress and settled it over the back of the couch. The skirt of the dress was so large that the material nearly spread out far enough to cover the entire couch. 

“Yep, just let me grab my purse and coat. Oh, and don’t forget the sandwiches!” She grinned at him as she hurried down the hall to her room. Bruce watched her go with a soft smile. He knew he was growing too fond of Harleen, but it was difficult not to. Harleen Quinzel was attractive, smart, and charming. She was everything a man could want and for a moment Bruce thought to himself that he could see exactly why the Joker... 

No. He stopped himself from following that avenue of thought, but he could see himself with someone like her in his life. Which was a dangerous thought. 

Pressing his lips together into a firm line, Bruce did his best ignore that thought. The feelings Harleen stirred in him made him think briefly about Selina. Both women possessed many similarities: attractive, smart, charming, dangerous. But Harleen--this Harleen--needed him whereas Selina didn’t… 

Bruce sighed. Best to put all those thoughts aside, dwelling on them would lead to no good he told himself. 

* 

Harleen’s work that day was the typical paperwork, meeting with a few boring patients that she had to pretend to be interested in with Dr. Chen--and more paperwork. She’d swear the biggest part of being a doctor was the fucking paperwork! 

There was a moment in which Harleen though how funny it would be to switch patient paperwork around, just to cause some chaos. Giggling about the idea Harleen only just barely stopped herself from actually doing it. 

Talk about a sure way to lose her job! 

Her focus was all over the place this afternoon, in part because of the party at the asylum this evening. This would be the first time she would be among other people, not the very few she saw on a daily basis, but people she didn’t actually know. She was still going to be in the asylum, but still! It was slightly frightening, but also exhilarating. She couldn’t decide if she was pleased that Bruce was going to be there with her or upset. On one hand, having her friend there to protect her if she became overwhelmed was nice, but on the other hand, being babysat still annoyed her. Her thoughts were also occupied with thinking about Bruce, Joker, Poison Ivy, and her weird dreams. The dreams had been so strangely vivid. 

She was also waiting for the right time to try to steal away to see both Joker and Ivy, and the waiting was difficult. Luck was with her today though since Frank the guard was on duty again, which made her wonder if he was going to be a more permanent feature at the end of the hall. She hoped so. Frank was easy to distract whereas another guard might question her more even with her stolen nurse outfit. 

Thinking of Joker, Harleen remembered he had mentioned that he had a doctor, a Dr. Robert Wells. Harleen didn’t know the name, so she decided to look him up on the asylum’s website. It didn’t take her long to find him--Dr. Robert Wells, freshly graduated from medical school. Oh he was from Star City. She snickered and bet that Gotham was a shock to him. 

Looking over his credentials, Harleen frowned. He was adequate, she thought, nothing special and his picture showed a fairly boring, nerdy looking man...short dark hair, brown eyes, medium build. Might have been the sort of guy that got beat-up in high school, though when she looked over his patient list, Joker was not listed as one of his patients. A quick search and Harleen found Joker wasn’t listed as being a patient for any doctor. Another quick search of the asylum’s closed network site showed her that Ivy wasn’t listed as anyone’s patient either. Odd she thought. She did more searching, but found nothing about either patient--no drug regimen, no listing of doctors that were working with them, nor were there any treatments listed, though with their files both being restricted, she couldn’t know for sure. 

But it was like Joker and Poison Ivy weren’t even here. 

Harleen frowned, chewing her bottom lip and absently tapping a pen against her desk. Now why on earth would there be no mention of either one of them receiving any medical treatments of any kind? Their files being restricted was one thing, but it was as if neither one of them were here, like someone was trying to bury them. 

Why would Dr. Arkham or Dr. Strange do that she wondered. Restricted files were one thing, but not having the patients on any drug treatment list, or any other kind of treatment list, no mention of the doctors working with them, no therapy sessions. It was all very odd. 

Harleen searched for anything, any sort of answers for a few more minutes on the asylum's system and wished she had access to the internet before she looked at the time and realized she was in the sweet spot, the handful of hours where she would be left alone. Hopefully, this was her chance to go see Joker and Ivy, who she was quickly beginning to see as her patients. 

As with yesterday, Harleen decided to see Poison Ivy first, then Joker. She wanted to spend the majority of her time with him, though she wasn’t sure why. Maybe the dreams… 

Harleen dropped her pen and decided not to dwell on it any further, pulled her phone out. The thing wasn’t that useful since she couldn’t surf the web with it and she didn’t have any other numbers except Bruce’s and work, but she did set herself an alarm so that she could divide her attention between Poison Ivy and Joker and still be able to get back to her office before it was time to leave...Hopefully. She slid her phone into the pocket of her doctors coat and quickly slipped out of her office and into the hall. 

* 

Once more she asked Frank to fetch her a muffin from the cafeteria and some hot tea, which he was more than happy to go get for her. She felt a little bad for manipulating the poor man because she had a feeling if anyone found out, he might lose his job, but he wasn’t really her concern. 

After he was gone, Harleen rushed to the stairwell to make her mad dash to Ivy’s cell. 

* 

Ivy felt annoyed. 

The doctor they had her working with , Dr. Anne Carver, was probably the most annoying woman Ivy had ever had the displeasure of having to work with. The woman was condescending and seemed to be under the impression that just because Ivy was a criminal and considered to be insane by the law, that those features made her stupid. The woman had her fucking file! Ivy knew her degrees and education where listed right there in black and white, yet the woman continued to speak to her as if she was stupid. 

Ivy sat in the middle of her cell, her eyes closed, letting herself relax as she contented herself with visualizing what she was going to do to Dr. Carver once she was out of Arkham. Maybe she could get Harley to come with her and they could string Dr. Carver up and hold her over one of Ivy’s carnivorous plants. They would watch the doctor squirm for a while before dropping her or maybe they could turn the woman into a plant? Harley would find that hilarious. 

That thought made Ivy smile, but her smile faltered. For a moment Ivy wondered if she would get her best friend back at all. When Harley had been here to see her yesterday, Ivy had been hurt by the lack of real recognition in Harley’s eyes. She saw a glimmer of something, but then Harley had run off… 

Ivy could only imagine what Joker would do if he didn’t get Harley back; that would be a real reason for her to leave Gotham, if she ever considered it. Ivy had no doubt that Joker would take Gotham and Batman down with him in his pain…Pain that he would make all of the city feel. 

Her heart ached for the stupid, annoying clown. 

“Am I disturbing you?” 

Ivy’s eyes snapped open to see Harley looking into her cell. 

Ivy schooled her features as best she could, but the smile that tugged at her lips was too hard to fight. It was so good to see her best friend, her sister in so many ways. 

“No, you’re not. I was just imagining killing my doctor.” Ivy smiled a little wider when Harley giggled, but quickly put her hand over her mouth to stop herself. 

“Who is your doctor?” Harleen asked with a light, inquisitive tilt of her head. 

“Dr. Anne Carver,” Ivy said and smirked when she saw the look of disgust that quickly passed over Harley’s features just before she spoke. “Oh. I met her on my first day back. She wasn’t really pleased they were letting me back on staff after my accident. I’ve not talked to her directly since my first day back, but…” Harleen wrinkled her nose in displeasure. “She strikes me as being very superior.” 

Ivy giggled, standing up and slowly approached her friend; she didn’t want to cause Harley to bolt. “She thinks she is. So uh...why are you here?” Ivy kept her tone gentle. 

Harleen frowned and Ivy could see the confusion in Harley’s eyes. It broke her heart to see her friend looking so lost, but at least she wasn’t running. 

Harleen’s voice sounded soft, distant. “I...I don't…” Then, just as quickly her tone changed and Harley sounded more like Dr. Quinzel than simple Harley. “It’s strange, your file along with the Joker’s is restricted, which I suppose isn’t unusual, but there is nothing about your care, who your doctors are, medications, or anything else. It’s as if you and Joker are not even here.” Harleen’s frown deepened as she looked at Ivy. “Why is that?” 

Ivy stepped a little closer. “That is odd. Is there anything else odd going on?” 

She watched as her friend’s frown nearly turned into a scowl as she thought the question. Her blue eyes exhibited her confusion. Ivy wanted to just say: “ I’m your best friend, that clown is your lover and we are here to rescue you!” But whatever was going on with Harley, her mind was in a delicate place and it would kill her to hurt Harley, to hurt her best friend by throwing too much at her. Or, if Harley didn’t believe her and didn't’ come back, Ivy wasn’t sure what she would do. 

Joker would kill her and she wasn’t too sure she would blame him. No, she needed to take this slow. She needed to be there for her best friend and answer her questions when Harley asked her, but Harley would have to find the answers on her own… 

“Maybe someone is keeping something from you?” Ivy murmured and tilted her head to the side. “Maybe there is a connection between you, me, and the Joker they don’t want you to know about…” 

Harley’s eyes snapped up to Ivy’s. “A connection? What is it? Why would they do that? And who exactly?” 

Ivy smiled. “Think Harley…” 

Harley suddenly looked scared and took a step back from Ivy. “My name is Harleen…” she whispered, although she didn’t sound very sure of herself. “I don’t understand, I don’t know you. Why would we have a connection?” She looked into Ivy’s green eyes and murmured, “I don’t know you--do I?” She was so confused that it hurt Ivy. 

The redhead smiled reassuringly. “Just try to think Harley, try to remember who you were before the accident, what your life was like before the accident.” 

Frowning, Harleen murmured. “I worked at Arkham, I remember that...but...it feels like there are parts missing. I remember my first day here. And I remember...” Ivy watched while Harley looked off into the distance, trying to dredge up the memories. It was painful to watch. 

“I remember my first day…” Harleen repeated. “I remember the incident with Guy, college...but...it's like there are months. No...no...years missing...at least…” Harleen frowned. “I...I was twenty-one when I started at Arkham, but...I’m twenty-five according to my work file. So…four years of my life are missing…” Harleen looked into the room at Ivy and her vision began to swim as this realization that she hadn’t really bothered to think about too much, but now it began to seep in. “Bruce never said anything about me missing so much time,” she whispered in shock. The color drained from her face and she reached out to put her hands against the door. Nausea washed over Harleen like a wave and darkness hovered at the edges of her vision. How had she lost four years of memories? Of her life? Why did it take until now for her to realize that? And why hadn’t her best friend given her that important detail? 

Ivy wanted so much to take Harley into her arms and give her a hug. She looked so lost, pale, scared, and utterly confused. Harley whispered again in shock and for a moment she looked as if she might faint. “Four years? That can’t be right…” 

Ivy decided to draw Harley’s attention because her friend looked as if she was on the very edge of having a breakdown. The shimmer of tears in Harley’s eyes was obvious. She looked almost as white as the Joker and her bottom lip trembled. 

Ivy asked In confusion. “Bruce? Who is Bruce?” 

Harleen’s attention returned to Ivy, the tears still threatening to fall even as a tiny smile formed on her lips. “My friend, Bruce Wayne. He’s taking care of me while I recover. “ 

“Bruce Wayne, eh?” Ivy asked, pressing her lips together. That was strange. “You’re friends with Bruce Wayne?” 

Harleen nodded again, but there was something in her eyes that Ivy could just barely pick up that said Harley found this odd too, yet didn’t understand why. “Yes. We’re just friends, but…” 

Ivy bit her bottom lip. Oh shit, a ‘but.’ 

“I don’t really remember our relationship at all. It’s so odd…” Harleen rubbed her fingers along her chin in confusion before she seemed to shake her head. “I didn’t come here to talk about me…” 

She looked back at Ivy who smiled. 

“What do you want to know?” 

“Why do you keep calling me Harley?” Harleen asked, tilting her head. “I don’t go by that name.” 

“You did, once.” Ivy replied. “You said your friends call you Harley.” 

“I did? Were you my patient?” Harleen asked feeling as if she was back down that rabbit hole once more. 

Ivy nodded. “Yes I was, when you first started here at Arkham, I was one of your patients.” 

“You were…” Harleen murmured softly, narrowing her eyes as she thought about this new information. She was about to open her mouth to say something in reply, but that was when the alarm on her phone chimed, causing Harleen and Ivy to both jump a foot. 

Grabbing her phone from her pocket, Harleen quickly turned the alarm off before turning her attention back to Ivy. “I need to go,” she said and started to turn, but Ivy called out. 

“Will you come back?” 

Harleen stopped and turned around to look at Ivy. She still looked pale and confused, but there was that old Harley determination in her eyes, Ivy felt certain she saw it there. 

She gave Ivy a genuine smile. “Yes,” she said. “I’ll be back.” 

Ivy smiled back. “Good. I look forward to talking to you again Dr. Quinzel.” 

Harleen turned, then said softly over her shoulder with a smile, “You can call me Harley.” 

Ivy felt her heart skip a beat when Harley said that, and her memory of their first meeting when Harley arrived at Arkham bubbled up in her memory. Dr. Harleen Quinzel, that same smile was on Harley’s lips now. This time when Harley raced off, Ivy was smiling. Harley was still in there, she was sure of it. Between Joker and her, they were going to bring Harley back. 

* 

Joker sat on his bunk across from Dr. Wells, wrapped up tight in his straightjacket. Just outside the door to his room stood a couple of guards, two orderlies, and a nurse, all of whom looked nervous, which only made Joker grin a little wider. 

Joker continued to smile, but the doctor wasn’t smiling at all. Instead, the man looked nervous. That made Joker smile even wider. 

“I do love these jackets,” he said, wiggling his shoulders back and forth. The sudden movement made Dr. Wells jump. Joker’s smile stretched wider yet to show many of his straight, perfect teeth. “So comfy, makes me feel like a swaddled baby.” Joker wrinkled his nose playfully as he smiled. 

Dr. Wells sat in a folding chair that he had brought with him. He had a clipboard in hand to hold Joker’s files on which he scribbled notes. He was writing something down, not responding to Joker just yet. Joker figured the doctor was trying to center himself. It was obvious the man was nervous by the way he was struggling to control the tapping of his foot. Nervous or neurotic? Joker wondered with a marginal narrowing of his eyes. 

“Joker, it says here in your files that you have no other names?” Dr. Wells looked up at Joker over the top of his glasses. “No surname?” 

Joker grinned as he started to rock back and forth on his bunk. “What else does it say in your little file there, buddy boy? Does it tell you how many doctors I’ve killed, or how many people I’ve murdered or how many they think I’ve killed?” Tilting his head to the side, Joker smiled pleasantly leaning back to lift his bare feet off the floor before rocking forward again. Each movement he made caused the guards and orderlies to visibly tense. “You aren’t from around here are you?” Joker asked with a tilt of his head and a wide grin. “You don’t have the look of a Gotham native. Hmm, you look too…” He pursed his lips in thought then grinned. “Healthy! Too much color, you don’t have that Gotham grey pallor to your complexion.” Joker giggled and continued to rock a little. 

Dr. Wells frowned slightly. “I’m originally from Star City.” 

“Oooh, Star City…” Joker frowned then shook his head. “Too much sun for me. I burn easily.” Wrinkling his nose and giving Dr. Wells a flirty look, giggled and said in a sing-song, “I have a very delicate complexion.” 

Dr. Wells didn’t reply, but he looked down at his notes then back up to Joker. “So, it says here you have no memories…” 

“I have a question.” Joker completely ignored what Dr. Wells had asked him and instead asked, “So, what’s a doctor from Star City doing at Arkham Asylum and working with me? Did you request me?” He grinned and batted his eyelashes at Dr. Wells. “Are you a fan?” He made a kissing motion with his mouth before giggling. “I would give you an autograph, but…” He shrugged his shoulders in his straightjacket. “I’m a little tied up at the moment.” 

“I am not a fan,” Wells said flatly. “I was assigned to you.” 

“Oh I see.” Joker nodded in understanding. “New guy hazing, or they just don’t like you and want to see how long it’ll take me to kill you.” Joker smiled pleasantly. “Didn’t anyone tell you that I was the monster in the closet? The boogie man under the bed?” Joker’s voice dropped to something low and sinister. “The Jester of Genocide...I particularly like that one because it sounds funny.” 

Dr. Wells paled a little, looking back down at his notes. “I would like us to see if we can’t build some trust Joker. I’m here to help you, so tell me, how long have you been here?” 

“This time? Not long.” Joker rocked a little again. 

“Why do you think you are in here?” Dr. Wells asked. 

“Oh easy question, I’m here to get my girl back.” Joker smiled pleasantly and rocked side to side. 

“Your girl?” Dr. Wells looked confused. 

“Yes. Harley Quinn is my wife, my lover, my partner, my friend, my confidant.” Joker sighed softly. “She’s everything in the world to me. Used to be Batsy was the most important person in my life--like the annoying brother I never had--but then this absolutely gorgeous doctor waltzed into my life and changed everything.” He grinned and his eyes shimmered for just a moment with real emotion before he swallowed and his expression settled back into the maniacal smile. “So I’m just here to bring her home.” 

“Why do you think she’s here?” Dr. Wells looked confused, but Joker narrowed his eyes. “She isn’t in my file?” 

Dr. Wells looked down at his papers, lifting a few up as he quickly scanned them. There were sections that had been redacted, which he found very curious, but otherwise he saw no mention of a Harley Quinn, no wife, no connection to other people at all. “There is nothing here.” 

Joker suddenly went very still and his smile faltered. “They think they could erase her from my life and I won’t notice?” 

Dr. Wells glanced back at Joker. He suppressed the shiver that ran down his spine like icy water. “Joker, it says in your file that you’ve never been married.” 

“That’s a LIE!!” Joker growled. He started to come to his feet and one of the guards moved closer, but within the next breath Joker had sat back down. His tone went lower, as if he were speaking more to himself than to Dr. Wells. “They are trying to not just rewrite Harley, but to rewrite me…” His blue eyes snapped over to Dr. Wells. “Harley is my wife. She is my girl, my harlequin and there is nothing you, the asylum, or Bats can do to change that. I will get her back. He thinks he can play games with me, well...I’ll show him some games.” 

Dr. Wells chewed his bottom lip for a moment before he asked softly, “Are you sure this Harley Quinn exists? Isn’t it possible that, along with your other mental disorders, that you’re suffering from delusional disorder too?” 

Even as he was writing down some notes about Joker having delusions of a wife, Dr. Wells quickly wrote another note down on his papers, a possible new diagnosis! Joker hadn’t been diagnosed as having this psychosis, but with the slew of other disorders reported in his file, he was surprised that delusional disorder hadn’t been added to the list. Dr. Wells grinned. If it wasn’t on the list, then that meant no one had diagnosed Joker with the disorder. That in turn meant he had a chance to write a groundbreaking paper on Joker and the disorder! 

A paper on the disorder and Joker was sure to get him a wide readership in the medical community! For a moment Dr. Wells saw himself giving lectures on the disorder and Joker in particular… 

He was momentarily so distracted by his possible future greatness that he didn’t realize the change in Joker’s gleeful demeanor. The clown had grown still, no longer rocking himself back and forth; his smile was also gone. Joker was staring at the doctor with cold blue eyes. 

“What did you say?” 

Dr. Wells looked over at Joker and his brows behind his glasses lifted in question. “Sorry what?” 

“What did you say about Harley?” Joker growled low and deep. 

The guards each exchanged a look, tensing, but Wells seemed oblivious. 

“I asked if you were sure that this Harley Quinn wasn’t simply a delusion?” Wells smiled and learned forward. “Perhaps she is simply a figment that you’ve invented, your brain telling you that you crave human contact, that you wish you rejoin society as a member instead of living your life as this...homicidal clown…” 

Joker moved so swiftly, cutting across the short distance in a flash. He had moved with such speed that no one was able to react quickly enough before Joker was on Dr. Wells. The two men fell, the metal chair making a loud clanking sound, both men falling down. The chair slammed against the wall as Joker and Dr. Wells fell to the floor, Joker on top of Dr. Wells. 

Joker sank his teeth into Dr. Wells’ cheek and yanked his head back, tearing off a section of Dr. Wells’ cheek. The doctor screamed as blood sprayed from the ragged wound, covering Joker’s face, his teeth, and soaking into Dr. Wells’ clothing. The doctor’s screams were high pitched, hysterical. 

Joker dropped back onto his rear and spit out the chunk of the doctor’s cheek, his lips, teeth, chin, and half his face covered in bright red blood. He began to laugh hysterically even as the guards rushed into the room. 

The guards grabbed Joker, forcing him to the floor though he wasn’t fighting them. They began to assault him with their batons while the one nurse in the hall began screaming. One of the two orderlies grabbed the nurse, pulling the syringe that she had on her from her pocket and rushed over as the guards held Joker down. The other orderly pulled the still screaming Dr. Wells out of the room. The ordery with the syringe rushed over and plunged the needle into Joker’s neck. The pale man’s laughter filled the small room, echoing off the walls as all of them quickly left the room, leaving him on the floor covered in blood and laughing hysterically. 

* 

Harleen was panting by the time she arrived at the stairs that led down to Joker’s cell. She had to hide at one point when she saw a group of guards and orderlies. They looked to be carrying someone, but she couldn’t be sure as she ducked into an empty office and hid. They were making a lot of noise, talking quickly and loudly, but soon their voices were fading as they disappeared down the hall. Hiding had cut her time with Joker only by a minute or two, but it was still irritating. 

When she came out of the office, looking both ways, Harleen frowned. There were drops of liquid on the floor, dark red. She stood still for a moment staring at the drops. They looked like blood. For a moment she thought about bending down to touch the drops, to see what they were, but at the last second she changed her mind. She only had so much time and couldn’t afford to be distracted. 

It was silent when she arrived in the stairwell that led to Joker’s cell, which made Harleen’s heart drop a little. She had enjoyed hearing Joker sing--him not singing worried her a little. 

Quickly, she made her way down the stairs and hurried over to Joker’s cell, raising up on her toes to look into the window. Joker was lying on the floor of his cell in a blood covered straightjacket. He lay on his side facing the door. She could see his face covered in blood, but his eyes were open. 

“Oh my god!” Harleen moved quickly, yanking out her keys and opening the door. She was so worried about the clown that she didn’t bother to close the door as she rushed over to check on him. 

“Joker? Can you hear me?” she asked with a gasp, looking him over, but while there was a great deal of blood, she couldn’t find a wound on him anywhere. 

Giggling Joker grinned at her, his teeth and lips stained with blood. “There you are. That doctor was trying to convince me that you were a figment of my imagination.” 

Harleen frowned, taking his face between her hands. She gently pulled one of his eyes open a little wider. His pupil was dilated so large that she could barely see any blue in them. 

“Can you tell me what happened?” she asked softly, reaching into her doctor’s coat to pull out a clean but wadded up tissue and began to wipe away some of the blood. 

“Dr. Wells…” Joker giggled, continuing to smile as he looked up at her. “...trying to tell me you weren’t real. Made me angry, he…” Joker sniffed back tears. “He wanted you to be something I made up…” His chin trembled while he gazed at her, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. “But look! Here you are Harley. He said you weren’t my wife...I made you up…” His lips quivered and tears continued well up in his eyes, slowly rolling down his cheeks even as he smiled. “But you are real…” He smiled a little wider. “My Harley Quinn…” 

Harleen frowned, whispering softly as she brushed his hair back from his face while she continued to clean him up. The way he was speaking to her broke her heart. At the same time she felt an odd flutter, in her heart, in her mind...Harley Quinn...she knew that name, yes he had called her that once before, but this time when he said it, or maybe it was the way he said the name, that strange tickle of recognition fluttered across her memory. That name felt as if it belonged to her, not just a twisting of her real name, but as if...maybe she had used the name at some point, which didn’t make any sense at all to her. There was something blocking her from fully understanding the name, and what it meant to her. 

“They gave you a sedative…” she murmured trying to focus on Joker instead of his words. 

Giggling Joker gazed lovingly at her. “I know. Harley...tell me you’re real.” Tears rolled down his cheeks, which actually helped Harleen in cleaning his face. “Tell me you’re real,” he whispered again. “I don’t think I could go on if you aren’t real.” There was a sliver of doubt in his voice even as he repeated. “You are real.” 

Harleen felt her heart speed up each time he called her Harley and the pain in his drugged gaze made her feel so conflicted, like the wings of a butterfly were just barely brushing her mind, she could feel the light breeze of distant memories brushing across her consciousness. There was something there, something she knew, something buried, feelings that were trying desperately to free themselves from the tangle of her lost memories...but she just couldn’t seem to grasp them. 

“Here, let’s get you out of that jacket,” she said, turning him a little. Joker let her manipulate him, clearly unable to register her turning him around so that his back was to her. She worked quickly to get the blood soaked jacket off of him, tossing it toward the open door. Once he was free, Joker spun around. Harleen tensed, but Joker only threw his arms around her and buried his face against her throat, nearly crawling into her lap. She could feel the rapid beat of his heart and hear his breathing was ragged. He broke down into heart wrenching sobs holding her tightly. 

“You’re real…” he murmured between the choked sobs. “You’re real, you’re real…” 

Harleen had gone stiff when he first wrapped his arms around her, holding onto her as if his life depended on it. Slowly, Harleen wrapped her arms around him and held him close. When joker felt her arms going around him to hold him, he tightened his hold on her and continued to whisper. “You’re real, you’re real, you’re real…” He repeated the words like a chant. 

Harleen held on tightly to Joker, rubbing one hand up and down his back. “Shh...it’s all right. I’m here...I’m real. I’m real.” After a few moments Harleen began to rock him, continuing to rub his back, holding him tightly against her. She began to sing a low, soft song she didn’t realize she knew. 

“Only you can make all this world seem right 

Only you can make the darkness bright 

Only you and you alone can thrill me like you do 

And fill my heart with love for only you…” 

Gradually, Joker stopped crying, though he continued to hold her tightly, nearly choking her, while Harleen rocked him back and forth, her voice a soft whisper. She closed her eyes, pressing her cheek against him, her embrace never loosening even as she felt the sedative he had been given take effect. His grip on her gradually loosened until Joker’s body became a dead weight in her arms. Harleen had to scoot around a bit to untangle herself from Joker’s embrace, but finally she was able to lay him down gently on his back. She would have preferred to lay him on his cot, but there was no way she’d be able to get him up there, at least not without hurting him in an awkward attempt. He was too tall and too heavy for her lift despite his slender form. Reaching up, Harleen grabbed his pillow and blanket from the bunk, carefully lifted his head to lay on the pillow, then covered him with the blanket. She would have preferred to be able to clean the blood off of him better, but she had done the best she could. 

Stroking her fingers through his green hair Harleen simply gazed at his face, peaceful in his drugged sleep. He was a very handsome man, she thought, sexy with his long, narrow features, long, aristocratic nose, sensual lips, thick, soft green hair in a porcelain pale face still splattered with drops of blood that she hadn’t be able to clean off with her single tissue, drying a crusty brown. Tilting her head, Harleen studied him and a feeling of déjà vu washing over her as if she had been in a similar position with him before, stroking his hair... 

She frowned, her brow coming down as she continued to stare at him, her fingers running through his thick, green curls. Lost in a memory, Harleen nearly let out a yelp, jumping a foot when her phone’s alarm went off to let her know that she only had a short window of time to get back to her office. She quickly pulled her phone out and turned it off, glancing down at Joker who didn’t respond to the sound at all. He was breathing steadily, deeply asleep, whatever drug that had been administered to him working through his system. 

With a deep sigh of disappointment, Harleen rose to her feet and quickly left, tucking the bloody tissue into her jacket pocket. Locking the cell door, she turned and hurried up the stairs wondering if she might find a way to come check on him this evening during the Halloween party. It was going to be busy, with the entire staff there, and even a few of the non-violent patients. Maybe she could slip away under a lie, something like going to the bathroom… 

It would be difficult, but she wanted to come and check on him, especially since they didn’t get to talk today. She had so many questions, about his treatment, about this...Harley Quinn… 

Again, Harleen felt a flutter where that name was concerned. 

* 

Going home, changing into a large ball gown only to turn around and return to work was weird Harleen thought as she fixed her hair into a “Belle” style, with half of her hair pulled back in a soft bun, the rest hanging down her back in curls even if her dress was more Sleeping Beauty than Beauty and the Beast. She tied a pink ribbon around the bun before putting on the massive dress, which took far more time than she had counted on and then she couldn’t even see her shoes to put them on, she had to get the shoes on her feet by feel. 

She had just put the finishing touches on her makeup when she heard a knock at her door. Harleen hurriedly finished, glancing down at her vanity top where a notebook sat, opened to a page where Harleen had written “Harley Quinn” several times trying to catch hold of the memory that was evading her, but so far she had no luck, no insight. She quickly slapped the notebook closed before hurrying--as fast as the dress would allow--to get the door. 

When she flung the door open Harleen saw Bruce standing there in his Prince Charming outfit. He wore tan breeches with knee-high brown leather boots and a dark royal blue tails jacket trimmed with gold embroidery. He looked every inch the Prince Charming. 

Bruce gasped when he saw her. “Wow, Harleen, you looked just like a princess, all you need is a castle.” 

Harleen giggled stepping back to let him in. “It’s pretty, but damn it is hard to move in.” 

Bruce laughed. “Well sometimes you have to suffer to look good, at least that’s what I’ve been told.” 

Giggling Harleen dragged herself over to grab her purse. Inside she had the key to Joker’s cell, ready if she got the chance to slip away, though she knew her chances of doing so were going to be slim with Bruce and everyone else being at the party (and the massive dress), but just in case… 

“Okay, I’m ready...if I can fit into the elevator!” Harleen giggled while Bruce held the door open for her chuckling.


	8. The Dancing Princess

Getting into the car while wearing the pink Sleeping Beauty dress was a feat of ingenuity and dexterity that almost had Harleen in tears laughing when between Bruce and Alfred they shoved her into the car. Getting out ended up being almost as comical as Bruce reached in to grab both her hands and yanked her through the car door. 

Harleen fell forward and into Bruce’s arms, giggling the entire time. 

Bruce laughed at her as he held her for a few seconds, staring down at her. His heart skipped a beat looking into her large blue eyes and her bright smile. Swallowing hard, Bruce quickly put her on her feet. “Sorry about that, I didn’t take into consideration the transportation issue.” He grinned at her, but Harleen only giggled. 

“It’s fine!” She shook her dress out, continuing to laugh. “I could sneak in an entire army in this dress!” 

Bruce chuckled, putting his arm out to her. “Yeah, I’m sorry…” 

“Why? So the dress is a bit much, who cares! It’s Halloween!” She winked at him as she took his arm, turning her smile to Alfred. “If you want to come, we can sneak you in as part of my dress!”She patted her large, layered skirts, making Alfred smile in amusement. 

“While I do appreciate the offer Dr. Quinzel, I do not think it would be seemly for me to sneak in under your dress. Additionally, I have brought a very riveting book with me that I am looking forward to reading in the car while you both enjoy the party.” 

Harleen pouted at him, but Alfred could see the twinkle in her pretty eyes. “Wow, even the thought of hiding under my skirts loses to a good book. I think I might be insulted, but I’m not sure…” 

Harleen giggled and wrinkled her nose playfully at Alfred who smiled at her. “You both have a good time and please be careful dancing Dr. Quinzel. I do believe your skirts could be a deadly weapon.” 

Harleen giggled brightly at Alfred’s joke as a grinning Bruce led her off. The moment they were out of sight, however, his smile faded. Alfred couldn’t help but smile at Harleen. She was a funny and sweet young woman he had to admit, but she was also very, very dangerous. While it would be a shame to see her return to her former Harley Quinn persona, Alfred still could not get the idea out of his head that Bruce was playing with fire where the young woman was concerned. 

He had no doubt that at some point Dr. Quinzel’s memory would return to her. When that happened, she was going to feel used, betrayed, and violated. And really, Alfred couldn’t blame her if she did. Bruce had taken it upon himself to try to change her, keeping memories from her for his own selfish reasons, even if he tried to convince himself that it was for Dr. Quinzel’s benefit. 

Plus, Alfred wasn’t blind. He could see what was happening between Bruce and Harleen. Bruce wasn’t accustomed to being around someone like Dr. Quinzel, a bright, sweet, vibrant young woman who didn’t care about his money or name, someone full of life, but who--right now anyway--needed him, was dependant on him, appealing to Bruce/Batman’s need to protect and help. Admirable qualities certainly, Alfred knew, but those same qualities were going to get Bruce--and possibly other people--hurt. He didn’t know why he felt so certain about the return to psychotic behavior, but Alfred had a strong feeling that maybe it was because, unlike Bruce, Alfred had always felt strongly that Harleen Quinzel had chosen to be with Joker, and not manipulated the way Bruce was trying to convince himself she had been. Maybe that's why Alfred was convinced at some point, someday, her memories would come back. And when she did recover those memories, Bruce was going to be heartbroken, because it was very clear to the old butler that Bruce was falling in love with Harleen Quinzel. 

Alfred didn’t want to see that outcome. 

Bruce’s broken heart wasn’t Alfred’s only fear. The old man feared that Joker was going to become far more dangerous than he had ever been before, no matter which way this turned out. If Harleen Quinzel never became Harley Quinn again, or even if she returned to her former persona, Alfred suspected that Joker would have it out for Bruce Wayne or Batman in a way that Bruce had never dealt with before…a new monster of his own creation... 

For now Alfred kept his fears to himself, more or less, but he suspected he might need help, maybe someone else to help convince Bruce that what he was doing was wrong... 

Taking a deep breath Alfred returned to his place behind the driver's seat, pulling out a paperback novel from the glove department, turned on the overhead light, reaching for the thermos of hot tea in the passenger seat, and settled back. 

* 

The party was being held in the asylum’s cafeteria where guests, doctors, nurses and other assorted staff usually ate. The room was big and usually bland with its white vinyl floors, light asylum grey walls, but tonight a real effort had been made to decorate the place for Halloween. There were orange and black streamers hung everywhere along with some black and orange balloons, while glowing pumpkins were scattered everywhere. The tables had been moved to the edges of the room so that people could sit, but also so they could have some dancing. The lights were dimmed and some Halloween colored lights were added along with some music. 

There were several people dressed like Dracula walking around carrying trays with bite size food and plastic cups filled with punch or soda to drink (no alcohol.) 

Harleen looked around with her mouth slightly open. “Wow, they did an actual good job,” she whispered in surprise. This was only the second time she had seen this room since she had returned to Arkham. 

Bruce smiled, the hint of a blush in his cheeks. “I may have helped with the food at least--me and maybe one or two other donors.” (Not only was this a staff party, but several of Arkham’s wealthy donors had been invited and were in attendance. Harleen didn’t know who any of them were, or she at least didn’t remember who any of them were; but she was sure if anyone important showed up that she needed to meet, Bruce or someone else would tell her who they were.) 

Harleen giggled as she looked around at the decorations and costumes. A few people were dancing to the music that was playing. She recognized Frank and one of the nurses. 

“Thank goodness for rich people and their better taste in food because I’m sure cafeteria hor d'oeuvres would have been...interesting, possibly slimy...and they might haunt you later.” She giggled before adding, “Wooo…the ghost of cafeteria food you shouldn’t have eaten...Pfft!” she made a fart sound that caused Bruce to snort and quickly swallow his laugh that had threatened to bubble out of his mouth of its own accord. 

Eyes sparkling with amusement at Harleen, Bruce pressed his lips down to control his chucking, laying his hand over hers where she clutched his biceps, and led her inside. 

Most of the staff were here already. Harleen saw Dr. Arkham sipping from a plastic up, dressed up like Walter White from Breaking Bad, while Dr. Strange was wearing an outfit that made her think he might be Sherlock Holmes. He was speaking with a young nurse who was dressed up as a tomato. There were more people here than Harleen realized worked at the asylum though she was sure a few were plus ones and other guests were the more stable patients that had been allowed to join the party tonight. 

Standing on her toes a little, Harleen tried to look for Dr. Wells, but after a few seconds she gave up. He could be in one of the darker corners staying out of the way or he might have been wearing a mask so that she didn’t recognize him. 

She would just have to ask around a little. She wanted to pick his brain about Joker, or, if he wouldn’t talk to her about his patient, maybe she could trick him into saying a few things. Harleen grinned, confident in her ability to make Dr. Wells slip up. 

Dr. Chen, who Harleen spied over by one of the cafeteria tables where she could see desserts, Halloween cookies, and a few other things like Jello and someone wearing the gold outfit with the blonde bob-cut wig and glasses that Lady Gaga wore at the beginning of her Bad Romance video. 

When Dr. Chen saw Harleen and Bruce, she waved and hurried over. “There are my dates!” She laughed. “Wow, you two look amazing!” 

Harleen giggled. “A bit much for an office party I know…” She spun around a little bit, letting the full effect of the large dress be appreciated as the skirt drifted out. 

“Yeah, but if you can’t over dress for Halloween, when can you?” Dr. Chen chuckled at Harleen before turning her attention to Bruce. “You look very charming Mr. Wayne.” She smirked. 

Bruce chuckled and gave a short bow. “Thank you, but I’m just here to escort Dr. Quinzel’s dress.” 

Harleen laughed and playfully smacked his arm. “Hey, you picked this buddy.” 

Again Bruce found himself laughing. 

Dr. Chen grabbed Harleen’s arm. “Okay you have to first dance with me, and try some of these little hot dog things that are being served. They are delish...I’ll bring her back after we dance.” Dr. Chen called over her shoulder to Bruce while dragging a giggling Harleen away. He nodded, watching Harleen go with a laugh. He couldn’t recall a time in his adult life where he had laughed quite so much. 

Bruce pressed his lips together on his smile watching Harleen across the room. Dr. Chen handed her one of the hor d'oeuvres she had mentioned, then watched with amusement as Harleen ran after the waiter to grab several more off his tray, stuffing a couple into her mouth which had Dr. Chen laughing. Next, the two women went onto the “dance floor” and danced to “Thriller” by Michael Jackson, which had them acting like zombies amusing everyone around, especially Harleen in her large dress. 

“So, how are things going? Well?” a voice at his right asked softy. 

Bruce glanced around to see Dr. Strange standing next to him with a plastic cup in his hand. 

Glancing again toward Harleen, Bruce nodded. “Yes, I believe so. Everything going all right here?” 

“Nothing to report,” Strange murmured glancing over at Harleen then back to Bruce. “I would like to take her aside for a therapy session though…” 

Bruce frowned. “Not sure that would be a good idea.” 

Strange shrugged, continuing to watch Harleen. “Agreed. Speaking to her about her memory loss might actually trigger something neither of us want, and Batman was very…” Strange sipped his drink while he thought of the right word before he finally said, “Adamant that we do nothing to trigger her lost memories. As a doctor though, I can’t help but be interested in her state of mind. What does she remember? Has she had any hints of her past dreams? Déjà vu? But…” He shrugged once more. “I did give my word not to interfere…” He glanced sideways at Bruce Wayne. “Money for the asylum was quite the motivator.” 

“I didn’t mean to make you feel as if I was buying you,” Bruce said, but Strange only smiled. “No matter how we might think of ourselves, the asylum is still a business, even if it is a business that provides a vital service, and money to help keep it going is necessary.” He murmured, “It’s simply the way of the world.” 

Bruce nodded his agreement and understanding while Strange took a sip from his cup, glanced down at it, then over at Harleen. “Though she seems to be adjusting well to her memory loss.” 

“Yes,” Bruce said softly pressing his lips together before he asked, “Has there been any issue with the Joker or Poison Ivy? I heard from Batman that they were both here. That’s...very dangerous.” He glanced over at Strange. 

Strange smiled. “You can assure Batman that Joker and Miss Ivy are both in their appropriate cells. All files on them are restricted and they each have their own doctors. There is no reason that Dr. Quinzel would even know they are currently here.” 

Bruce nodded looking relieved while his eyes wandered around the room and realized there were more patients here then he had first noticed. Most of them were dressed in makeshift costumes, bed sheets turned into ghosts, a couple were in very dated nurses uniforms which made them stand out as other than current nursing staff, one or two were dressed as witches, a wizard and a couple of other miscellaneous costumes. A few though, were still in their hospital outfits, but with robes on and the sock/slippers that the asylum gave all their patients. 

* 

On the dance floor, while Harleen and Dr. Chen were bumping hips, Harleen asked nonchalantly. “So, is Dr. Wells here?” 

“Dr. Wells?” Chen asked with a raised questioning eyebrow. 

“Oh, I was just looking through the doctor pages on the website and saw him. Thought he was kind of cute…” Harleen let her voice trail off a little, turning to face Dr. Chen and doing the floss dance that had Chen laughing at her. “You’ve got Bruce Wayne picking you up and taking you to work, but you’re interested in Dr. Wells?” 

Harleen giggled, blushing bright red. “It isn’t like that. Between me and Bruce, we’re just friends.” 

“Right.” Chen smirked at her while Harleen continued wrinkling her nose at Chen. “...and I was just curious about Dr. Wells is all.” Harleen threw her arms into the air and did a zombie dance step while swaying her hips. “He’s a new doctor. I suppose in a lot of ways I’m a new doctor too since I don’t remember being here that long...” She smirked, spinning around as best she could in the dress without taking other people out with the size of her skirts. She hoped Dr. Chen didn’t ask her how she knew Dr. Wells hadn’t been here long since as far as the good doctor was concerned, Harleen had never talked to him. “Just thought it might be nice to talk to someone who was...you know...new like me…” Harleen smiled innocently at Dr. Chen when she came back around. 

Chen twisted her hips chuckling. “And if it helps that he’s cute, or at least that’s what I’ve been told. Who knows?” She laughed even as Harleen stuck her tongue out at her. “Guys aren’t really my thing, but he’s not here tonight. There was an accident.” For just a second Dr. Chen wondered if she had said anything to Dr. Quinzel that she shouldn’t know since Dr. Wells was Joker’s doctor, but just as quickly she dismissed the thought. Doctors got hurt here all the time in a variety of ways, and Dr. Wells' injury did not immediately point to the Joker or any other specific patient. It was part and parcel of working at an asylum. 

“Oh gosh, is he all right?” Harleen asked with faked concern. She found that she didn’t really care that Dr. Wells had gotten hurt. For a moment Harleen wondered about her lack of sympathy, but quickly chalked it up to the fact that she didn’t know Dr. Wells, although she was slowly getting to know Joker...and after this afternoon, holding the man while he cried, Harleen’s sympathy went to Joker instead of Dr. Wells. 

“Yes, though he had to have a few stitches and he’ll probably need some reconstructive surgery. Mild, I imagine.” Dr. Chen informed her. 

Harleen frowned slightly, wondering what Dr. Wells had done to get that sort of response out of Joker. It must have been pretty bad, which made Harleen remember what Joker had kept repeating to her this afternoon: please say you are real. The doctor must have somehow been questioning Joker’s reality. Harleen found that she felt no sympathy for Dr. Wells at all. Intellectually, she knew that probably wasn’t the best response, but that was how she felt about the situation--nothing. 

Harleen quickly schooled her features into one of shock that had Dr. Chen quickly adding. “His patient bit a chunk out of his cheek. I mean, it’s bad, but it's not irreparable and he’ll be back here tomorrow I believe. Dr. Strange and Dr. Arkham both said he should take some time off, but he insisted on coming back to work.” 

“Oh,” Harleen said with a slight frown thinking to herself, well that explained the blood on Joker. 

* 

The fact that there were more patients here than he had realized made him feel uncomfortable. 

“How many patients are here?” Bruce asked Strange who shrugged, looking around and taking a quick head count. “There are...one...two...” His murmuring voice trailed off as he counted. “A dozen.” 

“Are they all safe?” Bruce asked, turning his attention to Strange who nodded. “We thought a party would be a chance for many of them to have some fun, a moment of lightheartedness on their path to mental health. By the way, you are not the only donor here.” Strange pointed with his cup. “We have several other donors, as well as the mayor and the governor. This party is a chance for us to show off the work that we are doing here at Arkham without having the patients seen as...well patients. They can be seen as human beings who are getting help thanks to our facility.” 

Bruce frowned, but nodded his understanding of the doctor’s reasoning. It still made him feel uncomfortable. His discomfort made him wonder for a moment. Did that mean he had a prejudice against the mentally ill? Considering who he often encountered in Gotham as Batman, perhaps he did. 

Bruce’s frown deepened as he reflected on this possibility. 

Harleen and Dr. Chen had finished dancing. Harleen came rushing over as best she could in her massive dress, her face bright with her smile, her blue eyes dancing in her pale face, bringing a lump to Bruce’s throat. She really was a very beautiful woman, he thought. Breathtaking in her beauty. 

“Bruce, wanna dance with a real life princess?” Harleen asked. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks a little flushed, and her smile was gorgeous. She did a little spin in her dress nearly taking out several of the wait staff. Bursting into giggles, Harleen called out, “Sorry!!” Though it was clear she wasn’t sorry at all. Bruce felt his heart skip a beat looking at her as she reached out for his hands. “Come on Bruce! Dance with me!” 

He wanted to refuse her demand. The image of her dressed as Harley Quinn, dancing on a rooftop with Joker nearly stopped him, but Harleen grabbed his hands and dragged Bruce out onto the little “dance floor” in the middle of the cafeteria. He couldn’t refuse her with all these people here, and her smile was infectious. Her hands in his, Harleen spun him around, laughing. Bruce found himself swinging with her and smiling at back her. Harleen Quinzel looked every inch the fairytale princess in her pink dress, golden blonde hair and bright blue eyes focused on him, and for the moment, he forgot all about the danger. He forgot about being Bruce Wayne, or Batman or anyone other than a man with a beautiful woman who liked to laugh and couldn’t care less what anyone thought. 

Harleen giggled with delight. Getting Bruce onto the dance floor had been an accomplishment, she realized with pride. Holding both his hands in hers, Harleen started to spin him around while the “Ghostbusters'' song began to play. Bruce looked a little tense, she realized, and she couldn’t figure out why they were at a party. Granted, he probably didn’t know that many people here, but neither did she; or if she did, they had been excised from her memory like so many other things. She wanted to talk to him about the fact that she had lost years not days from her life. That knowledge felt like a tumor in her gut making her sick and weighing her down, but on the drive here she had decided that bit of knowledge could wait until she and Bruce were alone to discuss it. 

Besides, she was having a difficult time focusing. Well, maybe it was because she was focusing on something else instead of her lost time. 

Tonight she had one focus, and that was to find a way downstairs to check on Joker. That was why, during the car ride here, she had used her voluptuous skirts as a distraction to take the key from her purse and shove it between her cleavage. 

She’d been worrying about Joker all evening and now that she knew why he had been covered in blood, she wanted to know exactly what Dr. Wells had said or did to set the pale, green-haired man off. The odd thing was, Harleen realized, she still didn’t feel scared of Joker. Quite the opposite, she realized, since she felt an intense pull toward him. Knowing that Dr. Wells had upset him enough that he attacked the doctor had upset her more for Joker than for his victim. 

But right now, until she could figure out how to get down there, she wanted Bruce to loosen up and dance with her. 

“Come on sourpuss! Smile!” Harleen grinned swinging his arms. 

Bruce smiled. “I’m not really a good dancer.” 

Harleen released Bruce’s hands and started to wiggle her hips in her dress side to side along with the music. “Who said you had to be good?” 

Her odd dance made Bruce chuckle. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a princess dance like that!” 

Giggling more, Harleen continued to swing her hips back and forth. “I was just about to ask you how many princesses you know, but then I remembered that you’re Bruce Wayne.” Harleen wrinkled her nose playfully at him, making Bruce laugh and shake his head at her. He reached for her hands so he could pull her against him. 

Harleen laughed and wrapped his arms around his shoulders looking up at him with a happy smile. “So, do you know a lot of princesses?” she asked while they swayed back and forth. 

Bruce smiled down at her, holding her tight. “One or two and not one of them dances as well as you.” 

Harleen threw herself backwards, one hand thrown dramatically over her head with a giggle that bubbled up from her like tiny bubbles of champagne. The maneuver forced Bruce to keep a hold on her, setting his feet wide or they would both have toppled to the floor just from the weight of her skirt. He was chuckling along with Harleen when she pulled herself back up. 

“How was that?” she asked with a wrinkled nose giggle. 

Bruce smiled at her, his gaze soft. “Nope, not one princess I’ve ever danced with has ever danced like you.” 

Laughing again, Harleen stuck her tongue out at him. 

* 

At the entrance to the cafeteria, one of the orderlies, a man named Lance, came in. He was running late because of some family issues with his stupid sister. He’d decided to dress as the scariest thing he could think of… 

* 

Bruce turned with Harleen in his arms, didn’t see the man dressed as the Joker, but when he swung around with Harleen, she did see him. Her eyes widened as a wave of déjà vu rolled over her, causing her to suck her breath in painfully. Something inside her twisted… 

Someone screamed. The sound went high, morphed into a shriek of fear more than a scream. There was a flurry of voices followed by another scream, but this person screamed. 

“IT’S THE JOKER!!!” 

Lance's eyes widened in surprise when he realized the person who had yelled about the Joker was pointing at him. “What?? No!! It’s just me, Lance Zhou!” 

The room erupted into chaos. 

Another scream went up, someone grabbed a chair and threw it across the room, the plastic hitting the floor with a loud clatter. One of the nurses was grabbed by her hair, someone else tackled one of the waiters, sending cups full of red punch spilling across the floor, and the sight of the red liquid caused more shrieking as someone began yelling about blood. One of the guards let out a pained yelp as a patient leapt on his back and bit into his ear. After that it was hard to keep track of what was going on because everyone was yelling or screaming. Some people were trying to leave while the guards and doctors were trying to get a hold of the patients who had gone from calm and sedate to manic from one momen to the next. 

Harleen and Bruce watched in dismay as the party began to collapse. One of the patients grabbed a tray of food and threw it, another table was toppled. 

Dr. Arkham began to yell. “EVERYONE CALM DOWN!!” 

Bruce cursed and grabbed Harleen, but one of the patients jumped onto his back. Bruce shoved Harleen out of the way. “Get someplace safe!” he yelled. 

Harleen nodded and took off, a smile forming on her lips the moment her back was turned. Here was her chance! 

* 

Joker was lying on his back staring up at the pale, weak light set in the dark ceiling, one hand behind his head, the other laying across his bare chest. He was gently tapping out a tune on his chest while he stared at the ceiling. The sedative had worn off hours ago. 

His eyes twitched, narrowed slightly. He was still angry about what Dr. Wells had done, trying to convince him that Harley wasn’t real… 

Smiling slowly, Joker ran his tongue over his teeth. He could still taste the coopery sweet flavor of Dr. Wells’ blood in his mouth. The fucker would carry that scar forever. Even with plastic surgery it would never quite fix the wound he had inflicted on the man. His smile widened a little more at the thought. 

After that, his thoughts were a little fuzzy, but he did know he had dreamt about Harley. She had come to him, cleaned his face, held him, sang to him. He could feel the ghost of her embrace around him right now, the smell of her, the feel... 

He didn’t know if it was real or a byproduct of the sedative he’d been given, but it had been a sweet dream. 

Joker had just closed his eyes when he heard the loud sound of the door that led down here being flung open. Frowning, Joker cocked his head to the side and continued to listen. He heard the sound of running feet on the stairs, the loud rustle of cloth. He sat up, turning toward his door, curiosity and tension making his back stiff. He heard something hit the door hard, as if someone had run into the door. This was followed by the frantic sound of keys in his door. 

Staying where he was, Joker watched the door, his eyes narrowed, his hands wrapped around the edge of his cot, waiting, tense, ready to fight if he had to, when the door was thrown open. 

Joker gasped in surprise. 

Harley was standing in his doorway dressed in a large pink dress looking like a fairytale princess that had just stepped out of a book. And she looked beautiful. 

“Harley?” he asked, not sure if he was really seeing her or if this was a delusion...an interesting delusion, he had to admit. He’d never hallucinated Harley as a fairytale princess before, but there was always a first time for everything… 

Harleen pushed herself into the room, wrestling with her skirts, but once she was into the room she smiled. “How are you feeling?” 

“Well, I...are you really wearing that dress?” Joker pointed at her dress moving his finger up and down. 

Harleen giggled looking down at herself. “Ah...yeah, ‘fraid so. Office Halloween party.” She blushed, grinning at him. “I’m Sleeping Beauty.” 

Joker smirked. “Well that seems a little on the nose.” 

“What do you mean?” she asked even as she stuck her head out the door to check the stairs before turning back to him, her eyes wide and so blue it hurt him to gaze into those gorgeous eyes of the woman he loved and know that she did not recognize him, at least not in the way she should. 

Joker waved a hand at her. “It’s nothing, forget it. If there’s a party, why are you down here doc?” he asked ,but his heart had sped up by a few beats. Getting to see her had just made his night infinitely better. 

Harleen went quiet, clearly listening for pursuit maybe. Joker wondered what had happened upstairs. “Someone came dressed as you and it set off the patients at the party.” She shook her head. “Started throwing food, some red punch spilled, and someone shouted it was blood...it was getting messy up there.” 

Joker giggled with delight. “Really?” 

But Harleen continued, speaking swiftly. “So I don’t have much time, I took advantage of the distraction to come check on you, but Bruce will come looking for me any minute…” 

“Bruce?” Joker growled. 

Harleen clarified: “Bruce Wayne.” 

Joker stiffened, he knew Bruce Wayne had something to do with Harley’s disappearance, but to know she was here with him...as a...date? 

“Is he your date?” Joker asked, not bothering to try to keep the viciousness out of his voice. 

Harleen had looked into the hall again before she turned back to him with a frown. “Sorta, but so was Dr. Chen. We’re just friends, though,” Harleen explained before she took a deep breath and tried to relax a little, but every little sound had her looking out the door. “I was here this afternoon, but you’d been sedated. You were covered with blood too.” Harleen frowned and worried the side of her lip before she said, “You keep asking me to assure you I was real.” 

Joker gave a small snicker as he stepped closer to her. “The not-so-smart Dr. Wells was trying to convince me that you weren’t real. That there was no Harley Quinn. I decided that I didn’t agree with him and simply gave him my opinion.” He shrugged easily. “I was a little limited in my ability to express my disagreement with his conclusion and I’ve always been a man of action rather than words, so…” He chuckled smiling wide, his blue eyes dancing with a hint of madness in them that Harleen found attractive. 

She frowned tilting her head, a hint of confusion in her gaze. “Why would he do that? It was like he wanted you to attack him...” Harleen found she was on Joker’s side in this dispute and she wondered if she might not have reacted the same way if someone was trying to force her to alter her view of reality. That thought brought a wave of nausea washing over her along with the nagging feeling that she was missing something, something vital. 

Joker pressed his lips together stepping a little closer still, but Harleen didn’t move away from him (though to be fair he thought she couldn’t really move easily in that dress.) Instead her light blue eyes remained focused on his face. That made him smile a little wider. She was so beautiful, his fairytale princess. 

Swallowing past the knot in his throat, Joker struggled to keep his calm as he answered her question. “Because many doctors think they know what’s best for their patients when in fact they know nothing of the sort.” Shrugging Joker giggled, the sound on the verge of manic, but he quickly pulled the giggle back and grinned. “I am glad you came by tonight, gives me a chance to thank you for saving me.” 

Blushing Harleen shook her head. “I didn’t save you. I mean, I just cleaned the blood off your face and…” Her voice dropped along with her gaze. “...and held you.” 

Joker took another step closer. He was close enough now he could smell the sweetness of her skin. “You did Harley. You saved me in so many ways.” 

Harleen looked into his eyes again, sensing he was speaking about something else. “How did I save you?” She asked the question, but like him, she wasn’t talking about this afternoon. She wasn’t sure what she was asking about exactly, but her gut told her Joker knew something--something important about her. 

Instead of answering her, he held one pale hand out to her. “May I have this dance sweets?” 

Harleen went still and her eyes widened a fraction. Something in her chest twisted when he asked her to dance, and when he called her ‘sweets,’ her heartbeat skipped. That sense of déjà vu she kept experiencing came over her so hard, so sharp that it stole her breath away, and all her other thoughts drifted away like smoke. 

Slowly Harleen put her hand out to him like a woman in a trance, her eyes locked with Joker’s gaze. 

Joker smiled, taking her hand, holding it gently. He stepped close enough to put his other arm around her waist, pressing her skirt between them. The beating of his heart seemed so loud as he held her, the first time is such a long, long time. He couldn’t breathe properly, the two of them stared at each other, neither moving, their breathing ragged. 

Her hand in his hand felt sweaty, her hand on his shoulders dug into his warm, pale skin as if she was holding onto him to stop herself from drowning. Joker held her hand tightly and his grip on her waist was firm, familiar somehow. His grip on her felt...like home. Harleen felt as if she had opened the door on something big, something dangerous, but something she wanted. 

In that moment Harleen forgot about the fact that she only had a few minutes to spare, that she needed to get back, back to Bruce, back to her fellow employees, back to the asylum. She forgot that she didn’t know this man and that he was dangerous. 

Instead she became lost in Joker’s blue eyes. She didn’t want to look away, didn’t want to leave. 

Slowly moving as if he were afraid of frightening her if he moved too quickly, Joker began to guide Harleen into the steps of a waltz. They couldn’t really move much in his cell and the size of her dress took up the rest of the available space, but Joker led Harleen in a shortened waltz, turning her in the small space. 

Falling into the steps of the waltz as if she had always known them, Harleen moved with him, the two of them turning to music only they could hear. The asylum fell away until the only two people that existed in the entire world were her and him. 

Joker began to sing, low and soft while he moved her in a meandering--if confined--circle. 

“Well, it's a marvelous night for a moondance 

With the stars up above in your eyes 

A fantabulous night to make romance 

'Neath the cover of October skies 

And all the leaves on the trees are falling…” 

Harleen giggled softly, a small smile blossoming across her face when Joker started to sing to her while they danced slowly. His smile was soft and sweet. He brought her hand up to his mouth, pressing his lips against her knuckles. She shivered feeling the movement of his lips against her knuckles while he continued to sing to her in a soft whisper. 

“....Can I just have one more moondance with you, my love…” 

They stared at each other, Joker’s smile tender, his eyes like two blue stars. The feeling of familiarity, and something she couldn’t find a word for, strengthened as Harleen gazed into those eyes in his ghost pale face. His complexion looked even more ethereal in the pale light of his room. Her gaze moved slowly over his face, taking in tiny details, her gaze brushing along his lips, pale without his red lipstick. 

Her brow creased at the thought. His lipstick? Why did she know that? 

A stab of pain hit Harleen in the chest and expanded, almost overwhelming her. The pain was followed by a feeling that she had lost something and that feeling of loss intensified until the feeling had settled back in her chest, hurting her. The sense of loss made her feel lost and hollow, as if a gaping, bleeding wound had formed in her chest. 

Joker kissed her knuckles again, drawing her attention back to him. The kiss soothed her pain. 

The sharpness of the pain slipped into something dull while her focus moved back to his eyes. Joker moved them in a slow turn and both of them leaned closer. The flutters in her heart increased, along with the tickling strokes along her mind trying to tell her that there was something for her to remember, something for her to grasp, but even as she reached out for those feelings, those possible memories, the thoughts dissolved like smoke between her fingers. 

She just couldn’t hold on to them. 

Her eyes glistened with tears of frustration. Why couldn’t she hold onto those memories? What was about Joker that kept causing her to feel those strange fluttering thoughts, the aching feeling of loss that seemed to envelop her entire body? What was she feeling? The knot in her chest twisted hard, causing the tears in her eyes to slowly gather at the sides of her eyes before flowing down her cheeks. The tenderness in his gaze made her hurt like nothing she had ever felt before. 

Moving closer to her, cutting the short distance between them further, Joker brushed his nose against hers, holding her hand against his chest so she could feel the rapid beat of his heart while he sang in a whisper just for her. 

“...And straight into my arms you will run 

And when you come my heart will be waiting….” 

Shivering Harleen felt her lips part. She leaned toward him, her eyes lost in his intense blue gaze. Joker leaned toward her, his eyes glancing from hers then down to her lips. He was so close she could feel the tickle of his warm breath against her lips. She could see the dim light catching and causing his tongue to glitter… 

“HARLEEN!!!” 

Harleen jumped a foot, yanking herself free from Joker’s embrace to rush to the door of his cell. No one was in the stairwell leading down here, but they had to be in the hall above. 

“Fuck!” Harleen hissed and turned back to Joker. “I have to go.” 

Joker’s expression fell. He looked heartbroken, but he nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Harleen rushed out the door. She quickly, and as quietly as she could, closed and locked his door. 

Before she left, she stood on her toes to look in at him through the window. 

“I’ll...ah...I’ll be back on Monday,” she said swiftly. 

“You won’t be here this weekend?” Joker was finally able to speak, his voice breaking. 

Harleen’s attention was drawn to the door at the top of the stairs. She heard her name again, not as close, but… 

“I...ah...I don’t know...I’ll try,” she said in a rush looking back at him one more time. 

They stared at each other until Harleen heard her name called again, closer once more. 

She hissed. “It’s Bruce...I have to go.” 

Looking back in his cell, Harleen gave him a sad smile and then, like a shadow, she was gone. Joker rushed over to the door, only now able to move, and looked out. He could see her dress, the layers of pink a quick flutter, but then she was gone. He stood there staring out the little window as if hoping to catch another glimpse, but he had heard the door echo as it closed. 

Harley was gone. 

Joker closed his eyes tightly, his hands balling into fists against the door of his cell. He laid his forehead against the window, his entire body shaking with anger, pain, and grief until finally he screamed. Banging his head and fists against the door for a few quick, intense seconds Joker gave himself over to his manic rage, slamming his head and fists against the door until he felt the hot, liquid trail of blood running down his brow and over the bridge of his nose. 

Finally he spun around, pressed his back against the door. Slowly, he let himself slide to the floor, closed his eyes, not bothering to wipe away the blood that slowly rolled along the side of his nose and down over his lips. 

* 

Harleen rushed up the stairs and out the door, looking around with wide eyes. Bruce wasn’t in the hall; she wasn’t sure where he was, but she had one chance… 

She hit the stairwell again and rushed up the stairs, yanking her skirt up as high as she could, almost tripping as she rushed up the stairs. 

Once she was on the floor where her office was located, Harleen stopped, struggling to control her breathing, but she was panting. Taking as deep of a breath as she could, Harleen held her breath so she could hear. It was difficult, her heart was pounding so hard it was the only thing she could hear rushing in her ears, but that was when she heard movement...coming from her office. 

“Fuck!” she mouthed the curse just under her breath. 

For a moment she wasn’t sure what she should do, Bruce already knew she wasn’t in her office… 

Harleen’s eyes went to the lounge. Yanking her skirts up to her knees, Harleen moved as quickly and as quietly as she could… 

* 

Bruce was in a panic, not a feeling he was accustomed to experiencing and one that he did not appreciate. 

Where was she?! 

When he’d told Harleen to get someplace safe, he hadn’t really thought about where she would go. He’d assumed maybe the cafeteria kitchen or under a table, but when he realized she wasn’t still in the cafeteria (and the patients had been ushered out of the makeshift party room), he went to the first place he could think of that she might go--her office. Now that he was up here looking for her, he realized the office would be the only safe place she would probably think of. Her time at Arkham was constrained to this hall, this would likely be the safest place in her mind, he concluded, but now that he was in her office and she wasn’t here, Bruce was starting to panic. 

The chaos at the party was contained after Dr. Arkham and Strange got the nurses on call to bring in sedatives for the patients, and the idiot who had shown up dressed as the Joker was kicked out of the party. Bruce didn’t think the man was going to have a job to come back to tomorrow. There were stupid ideas and then there was coming to an insane asylum Halloween party dressed as the Joker level of stupidity. 

He walked out of her office and looked down the hall when he saw her, tiptoeing down the hall, the skirt of her dress held up. They stared at each other… 

Harleen panicked, her mind was frantically trying to come up with a reason to give Bruce for why she wasn’t in her office, which she supposed would be the most logical place for her to go hide, but she was coming up with blanks. Suddenly a stupid idea popped into her head… 

“Harleen?” Bruce turned toward her just as Harleen rushed down the hall. He barely had enough time to throw his arms open and catch her as Harleen threw herself into his embrace. 

“Harleen, are you…” Bruce didn’t get to finish his sentence before Harleen’s lips were on his mouth. The shock of feeling her warm lips, the scent of her skin and hair, her body filling his arms, Bruce forgot about everything and wrapped his arms around her, automatically deepening the kiss. 

Harleen’s eyes widened. The moment she kissed him, Harleen felt a wave of nausea wash over her. It was like she was kissing her...her brother...or...someone she didn’t like...like Guy... 

When Bruce opened his mouth and she felt his tongue, it took every ounce of control that she had not to yank herself away… 

What the hell had she just done??!!


	9. Consequences

Panic rushed through Harleen’s blood as she felt Bruce pull her in closer and try to deepen the kiss further, his tongue seeking in her mouth and...oh god, if she gagged... 

She put her hands against his chest and gently shoved, not too hard, just a gentle push against him. Thankfully, Bruce was always the gentleman, and while she could feel his reluctance to let her go, he did release her. 

He was smiling, probably more than she had ever seen him smile. 

Oh shit, what had she done? 

“That was unexpected, pleasant...” Bruce quickly added. “...but unexpected.” 

Harleen blushed while also trying not to turn green. Kissing him had felt like...like...eww...like she had kissed her brother...or worse. She couldn’t think of a worse example, but kissing Bruce had felt wrong on a deep level that Harleen couldn’t understand and didn’t want to examine right now. Even though she had kissed him to distract him from her actions, it still felt so, so wrong. Right now she needed to go home. 

“Bruce, I’m really tired...do you think you can take me home?” Harleen asked softly, looking up at him with what she hoped were big puppy dog eyes that would distract him from asking too many questions. She even decided to lay it on a little thick by leaning against Bruce. 

“Sure Harleen, if you’re sure.” Bruce wrapped his arm around her shoulders and gently pulled her close, kissing the top of her head. “Maybe you weren’t ready for a party…” 

“Maybe,” Harleen said softly. 

“Well, let’s go back. I’m sure they’ve gotten everything under control. We can say our goodbyes.” Bruce began to lead her down the hall toward the elevators. Harleen’s eyes drifted to the stairs that she knew would lead her back down to Joker’s cell. Pressing her lips together she thought about the feel of Joker’s lips on her knuckles, then the almost kiss, the heat she had felt from his body, the burning feeling he had left on her skin that burned through her clothing… 

That almost kiss between her and Joker, the heat of his breath, the shine in his eyes when he looked at her, everything about him stirred up feelings in her that made her feel strange, wild, unhinged, needy, obsessed. The need to see him felt strong, strong enough that she wanted to break away from Bruce and rush back to Joker’s cell. The need she felt was like a wild “thing” inside her, restless and hungry. When Joker’d asked her about seeing him this weekend Harleen had said she couldn't, but now she couldn’t imagine going two days without spending time with Joker. 

She had to find a way. 

* 

The ride home was quiet. 

Bruce was content to lean back in the seat, his arm around her shoulders and held her gently against him. He didn’t try to kiss her again, didn’t say anything about the kiss. She guessed he was going to let her take the lead, which was fine with her because she didn’t want to repeat that kiss, but she worried she might have to. 

God, what had she done?! She loved Bruce and respected him, but she didn’t want a relationship with him. He was like a brother, a savior to her, but she didn’t feel any attraction to him. No...that wasn’t true exactly. Bruce was attractive, sweet, kind--if overbearing--focused, and she knew being in a relationship with Bruce would probably be nice. And that in and of itself was attractive, but it would feel too much like a gilded cage, just like the one she was in now. And if he acted this way now, over protective billionaire, would it be worse if she was in a serious relationship with him? 

And there was no heat, no sexual attraction for her. 

Harleen leaned her head against Bruce’s shoulder, dismissing her thoughts. There was no point to trying to figure any of this out right now. The only thing she knew for sure was that she needed to find a way to see Joker this weekend. She’d sort the rest out later. 

* 

“Well, despite the upset, I did have a nice evening.” Bruce smiled leaning his shoulder against the doorframe of Harleen’s apartment. His dark blue eyes sparkled and he was giving her a charming smile, the sort of smile that would melt a young woman’s heart--if she was so inclined--but Harleen wasn’t. Strangely, she felt bad about that too. She felt as if she was betraying Bruce somehow by not being attracted to him or interested in more than a friendship, though she worried again, had she and Bruce been in a relationship before the accident? She would have hoped she would have felt something, anything, but all she felt right now was fear and worry. She felt even worse because she was attracted to Joker on an almost primal level. There was simply something magnetic about the man, something that drew her to him. He was handsome, his porcelain pale skin, his thick green hair, and then there were his eyes, bright, hypnotic, beautiful. Harleen realized she had wanted him to kiss her, more than she had wanted anything. That had to be wrong...didn’t it? Who in their right mind was attracted to a man who billed himself as an insane clown, she asked herself. 

No one sane, that’s what Harleen tried to tell herself. 

“I did too--sorry I wanted to leave so soon,” Harleen said softly while playing with the end of one of her curls. She tried not to focus on Bruce’s eyes, because the wave of guilt that rolled over her when she looked at him, thinking about their kiss, was just too much for her to deal with right now. 

Right now she needed a good night's sleep and a chance to think about what she was going to do about...well, everything. Her feelings were a confused jumble along with her memories, she just needed a breath... 

Bruce frowned, could see the lines of worry around Harleen’s eyes and her lips. She wasn’t telling him something, something that was bothering her a great deal, but he could also tell by her stance Harleen wasn’t ready to talk about it. 

He was worried about her. Seeing the Joker, even a fake Joker this early in her recovery, might have stirred up memories, but so far Harleen seemed not to be affected except in the way a normal person might be upset. That was a very good sign, he acknowledged, because it meant that Harleen’s memories of being Harley Quinn might finally be fading permanently, to be replaced by new memoires and her new identity. Once that happened, Harley Quinn would well and truly be dead. 

“Breakfast tomorrow?” Bruce asked with a gentle smile. 

“Only if you let me watch cartoons,” Harleen said with a grin. “News on a Saturday morning is boring.” 

“How about 50/50, you get to watch some cartoons if I get to watch some news?” Bruce murmured, reaching out to lightly caress her jaw. Harleen was proud of herself for not yanking back from his touch. Maybe tomorrow would be better, but right now, every time Bruce touched her, Harleen felt skittish, uncomfortable. It wasn’t like anything was going to happen, Bruce wasn’t that type of man, but she still felt like a spider on a hot pan, jumping around from one area to the next hoping this one would be safer than the last. 

“Well, you should pour yourself some milk to help you sleep.” Bruce smiled pushing himself up to stand straight. “I’ll be over around nine a.m. with breakfast. Then we can discuss the rest of the day.” He stepped forward, catching Harleen by surprise when he ducked his head and kissed her on the mouth. Harleen stiffened, but the kiss was a simple brush and press of his lips against hers. 

He didn’t attempt to take the kiss any further than that, stepping back into the doorway again in the next instant. 

Bruce smiled again and gave Harleen a little wave. “Good night.” 

“Good night,” Harleen repeated softly with a little smile. 

She watched Bruce step away, turn, and smile one more time before he disappeared into the elevator. 

Harleen closed her door and leaned her back against it, letting out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. 

* 

Bruce slipped into the back seat of the limo to find Alfred staring at him in the rearview mirror, his brows slightly furrowed. 

Alfred had several levels of stare: disappointed, very disappointed, disappointed enough that he was considering moving back to England, disappointed enough that he was considering kicking whoever was annoying him--and their irritating behavior--out of the car or house. Then there was his tolerant stare, his stare in which Alfred was questioning both his own sanity for putting up with whatever was going on and where he had failed in raising Bruce. There were the stares that questioned one’s intelligence, indulgent stares, and even stares that communicated how Alfred had suffered for years because of some of the ridiculous things “someone” (which usually meant Bruce) did. Bruce had learned all the stares, their various meanings, levels of meaning, and their slight variations. He liked to pride himself on being an expert on deciphering Alfred’s many stares. 

Except right now, he wasn’t sure what Alfred’s stare meant. He was pretty sure he was in trouble, could see the hint of disapproval in his butler and father figure’s eyes, but the rest he couldn’t read. It was clear that he’d disappointed Alfred, but he wasn’t exactly sure how or why. It must have something to do with Harleen, he concluded. 

“Anywhere else Master Bruce?” Alfred asked with barely any inflection in his voice. 

Yeah, definitely in trouble, Bruce thought with a frown. “Just home tonight Alfred.” 

Alfred pulled out into traffic and drove silently. Alfred wasn’t staring at him now, his attention on the road and traffic (every time Bruce looked up at the rearview, Alfred was looking at the road), but he still felt the weight of the older man’s stare somehow. 

“You want to tell me what’s bothering you?” Bruce asked, though he was sure what it was that was bothering the older man. 

Alfred pressed his lips together in a thin line. “Did something change this evening?” he asked instead. 

“What do you mean?” Bruce paled just a little. 

“You’re relationship with Dr. Quinzel, something has changed hasn’t it.” Alfred made the question into a statement. 

Bruce thought about lying, just a little lie, but he’d never lied to Alfred. With a sigh, he nodded. “She kissed me tonight. I...I kissed her back.” Bruce spoke softly. “I...I care about her Alfred, a great deal actually.” 

Alfred shook his head. “This is wrong Master Bruce. You are lying to her, lying to yourself. And what about Miss Kyle?” 

Bruce froze for a moment before answering, his voice tight. He didn’t like bringing Selina into this. He and Selina had a...complicated relationship, to put it mildly. They were on again, off again and while a few of the offs had been his doing, the majority of them came from Selina. Commitment wasn’t her strong suit. 

To be fair, it wasn’t his strong suit either, but he felt like it would be different with Harleen, if given a chance… 

Alfred spoke again, breaking his train of thought. “Master Bruce, you are becoming obsessed with Dr. Quinzel, with Harley Quinn.” 

Bruce started to protest, but Alfred didn’t stop. “She is Harley Quinn, no matter what you do sir, that is who she really is, who she chose to be. Taking her choices away from her by lying to her isn’t fair to her and…” He continued looking hard at Bruce in the rearview. “...it isn’t fair for you to fall for her, for the persona of Dr. Harleen Quinzel that you are trying to reconstruct for her instead for who she is.” 

“Alfred, we’ve had this discussion before. Dr. Harleen Quinzel is who she is supposed to be,” Bruce said softly. “Harley Quinn was Joker’s doing.” 

“Are you so sure about that Master Bruce, or is your desire for someone pure and innocent clouding your judgement? You want her because this new version of Harley comes with no history except what you are creating for her.” Alfred frowned and shook his head. “I think you are…” 

“Enough,” Bruce snapped. He hadn’t meant to, but he couldn’t stop himself. “I know what I’m doing, Alfred.” 

“You are not being objective,” Alfred said, but Bruce spoke over him. 

“I do know what I’m doing Alfred. I’m giving Harleen a better life…” 

“With you?” Alfred asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“Yes, maybe it is with me,” Bruce said, turning to look out the window. “Maybe it would be better for the both of us…” 

Alfred wanted to say more, but he could tell by the set of Bruce’s jaw and his tone that the young man was done listening. 

Maybe it was time Alfred called in some other help. 

* 

Later that evening, Alfred sat on the edge of his bed with his cellphone in hand. He hated to do this, felt as if he was betraying Master Bruce’s trust, but he felt as if something needed to be done, even if he didn’t know precisely what that something was. He had no idea what to do for Harley Quinn, whether it would be better to tell her who she was or not, but he needed to think of Bruce first, before this entire thing went too much further, before they both got hurt. 

Alfred already feared what Joker would do whether he got Harley Quinn back or not. The butler felt sure that Bruce had underestimated that evil clown’s feelings for Miss Quinn. 

Alfred feared that there was going to be hell to pay. 

Sighing heavily, he dialed the first number he could think of… 

* 

Joker’s dream had been beautiful because Harley had been there. 

They had been alone, together in their bed back at the hideout, wrapped around each other, a tangle of limbs, after an intense session of love making. Harley was smiling, her eyes glowing the way they did after she had orgasmed. They held that bright glow that always made his heart do little painful twists in his chest. In the dream, she had been stroking her fingers through his hair the way she liked to do, smiling that sweet smile that made him feel so good to see. 

“I think we should just stay right here for a while. Let Batman have Gotham for a few nights,” Harley whispered and kissed the tip of his nose. “We could stay in bed the entire time, making love and snuggling. Whatcha think Mistah J?” 

“I think you have some fantastic ideas, my harlequin,” Joker purred softly, pulling her close to nuzzle her ear until she started to giggle. He was just starting to make his way down her throat, the feel and scent of her overwhelming him. The taste of her skin, the softness of her body pressed against him made him want to stay in the dream, safe, where everything was as it should be. He held her closer, scared to let Harley go when suddenly something sharp hit him in the side. 

“Wake up clown,” a rough voice demanded. 

It was Saturday morning, way too early for anyone to be up, but Joker rolled over onto his back from where he’d been facing the wall. A groan escaped his lips as reality forced its way back into his consciousness. The sweet dream dissipated like smoke, taking with it his comfort and leaving him only the pain. 

His arms wrapped around himself, using his shirt as a pillow, barefoot and wearing only his asylum pants, Joker moved slowly. The chill in the air made him feel a little stiff, or maybe it was the way he’d been sleeping. 

His head throbbed a little from having banged it on the door after Harley left, but he opened his eyes anyway, even though he was reluctant to focus on anything other than his dream. Slowly putting his hand up against the glare from his room’s overhead light, Joker opened one eye. 

“You know, waking a man from a blissful dream is a crime,” he muttered only to get shoved in the shoulder with something that felt like hard plastic. The guard standing over him shoved hard enough that Joker winced slightly. 

“Sit up on your own clown or I’ll shock your ass up.” The guard, who was now coming into view, was one of the more brutish types that Arkham Asylum liked to hire, the half-man half-animal types who had no problem with beating a patient's head in. This one leaned more toward the ape type, all shoulders and brute strength without the intelligence or sympathy a true ape would possess. 

Joker opened his mouth ready to make a witty reply when the guard thrust something into Joker’s side. The pain was immediate. Joker’s jaw clenched and the muscles in his body went stiff as the electric shock moved through his body. 

He didn’t make a sound, but his body bowed a little from the shock, a shock that he felt through his entire body, every muscle stiff with pain. 

“Get ‘im in the jacket,” the guard yelled at someone and Joker was yanked off his bunk to the floor where he was shoved into a straitjacket by two orderlies. He struggled for a moment as the shock wore off swiftly, only to have the guard taser him a second time. Gasping in surprise and pain, Joker arched again, his body refusing to obey him while the two orderlies twisted him around, shoving his arms into the jacket. They crossed his arms before they yanked the straps back as he was forced onto his stomach so that he could be strapped in. 

Joker struggled as his control over his muscles returned. “You know, this is fun. You three work as dominatrixes on your off hours?” The guard with the taser kept his foot on the small of Joker’s back while the other two men worked with swift efficiency. “Shut it clown. You ain’t funny.” 

“Oh, I don’t know, I think I'm hilarious.” Joker chuckled just as one of the orderlies yelled, “Done.” 

The two orderlies stepped back, leaving Joker face down on the floor of his cell, strapped in the straitjacket. 

“Good, now let’s get him up to see Dr. Wells.” The two orderlies grabbed Joker and lifted him to his feet. 

Joker grinned wildly at them all, his blue eyes dancing with mania. “Oooh, hit me with that again, I really love being dominated. Hit me again daddy.” He snickered at the guard and made kissy faces at him. 

Looking disgusted, the guard hit him again with the taser, barely giving the orderlies enough time to grab Joker’s arms to stop him from falling forward on his face. Joker stiffened, and again, much to the guard’s annoyance, Joker didn’t make a sound except when the taser’s effects began to wear off, and then the clown started to giggle. 

“Hey!! Willy stop with the taser, you’re gonna get us all in trouble.” One of the orderlies, a younger man with bleached blonde hair that looked mostly orange, snapped at the guard. 

“Shut up Pike, and I told you to call me by my last name, North, not Willy, got it?” North glared at the orderly he’d called Pike. “Besides, no one is going to care what we do to this freak. Besides that, Dr. Wells has some good old fashion therapy planned for the funny old man here...now come on and stop being such a whiner Pike.” North moved out of the cell and the other two men followed, dragging Joker with them. 

* 

Joker only giggled, letting them drag him up the stairs and through the halls. He didn’t help even as they fought with him to try to get him to walk, but Joker just remained a dead weight. Even when North tasered him again--which started the three of them yelling at each other--Joker simply giggled and snickered to himself, pissing them off even more. 

It was, Joker decided, fun. 

Finally they arrived (everyone but Joker was breathless with the struggle) at an unmarked door. North opened the door and the orderlies carried Joker inside. 

Joker smiled when he saw Dr. Wells. The man had a large bandage over the cheek that Joker had bitten a chunk out of, looked pale and even a little wiggy, which made Joker wonder if the man was taking some opioids for pain...probably taking more than he should, in fact, the clown guessed with a critical eye. 

“Helloooo Dr. Wells, how are you today? A nice cold November day, eh? You look a bit sullen. Something bothering you doc?” Joker kept his voice pleasant and bubbly, but he knew immediately what was going to happen; he saw a hospital gurney in the room with leather straps and he recognized the ECT machine sitting quietly in the corner like a monster waiting to strike. 

“Is there something wrong with your cheek?” Joker asked with a chuckle, giving Dr. Wells his best innocent look. 

“Strap him down,” Wells ordered his voice flat. 

“Ooh, gonna try and shock some sense into the old noggin? Well I can tell you from experience, this just gives my brain a tickle…” Joker giggled, but he once more became a dead weight as the orderies tried to haul him to the bed. He wasn’t fighting them, but he wasn’t going to help them either. “We should all try it, don’t you think? I’ll be fun!!” Joker laughed as he was thrown down onto the bed, the two orderlies and the guard focing him prone. “Ah now, come on boys, it’s fun!! I promise!!” 

They pulled straps across his body, leaving his arms in the straitjacket, but they spread his legs and wrapped leather straps around his ankles while Dr. Wells walked over and started to put the sensors on Joker’s forehead and chest. 

“I’ve decided Joker, that you are not the type to be responsive to talk therapy. I figured out there is only one thing a creature like you understands--and that is pain.” Dr.Wells was trying to keep his voice emotionless, but Joker could detect the hatred, the rage in the tremble of the other man’s voice. It made him smile a little wider. 

“Oh, did I hurt you Dr. Wells? Wanting a little revenge? Well, you go ahead darling, whatever makes you feel better, but I hate to tell you, there is nothing you can do to me that is going to hurt me.” Joker smiled, his eyes wide. “Nothing…” His voice became a whisper. “There is nothing you can do…” he repeated with a chuckle. To himself he thought that he’d already suffered the greatest pain; that was losing Harley. Nothing in the world would ever hurt as much as losing her had, or seeing her now and knowing she was so far away from him, that he couldn’t touch her, couldn't hold her, be with her. 

That was real pain. 

Dr. Wells' eye over the bandage twitched. “Well, why don’t we just see about that.” 

He reached over, grabbed the electrodes, and glanced at one of the orderlies. “Shut him up, will you?” 

“With pleasure.” The orderly grabbed the rubber mouthpiece that prevented patients from biting their tongues off or breaking their teeth, forced it into Joker’s mouth before the clown could utter a comeback. Joker heard the hum of the machine coming to life and he felt the pressure of the electrodes on his temples right after the orderly rubbed gel on him. 

Before Wells hit the power, Joker closed his eyes and relaxed. There really was nothing they could do to him that would hurt. Physical pain was nothing compared to what he’d been through. He’d even welcome the physical pain because he was starting to think he couldn’t feel anything at all, except the loss of his Harley. 

Last night, almost kissing her only to have her gone again had felt worse than any physical pain he’d ever endured. 

Closing his eyes, Joker let his mind drift to thoughts of Harley. He knew there was nothing he could do about what was going to happen to him--at least not yet. He would endure whatever he had to so he could be with Harley, to get his Harley back. All the pain in the world would be nothing, would be easy to face if he was able to hold Harley in his arms again. With his eyes closed he could see her clearly, laughing, her makeup smeared from their kissing, the black lipstick and white clown paint smeared across her skin, her hair a mess after taking her hood off, but he found her so beautiful in those moments. The feel of her lips on his throat, her arms around him keeping him safe. Harley was holding him when the first jolt hit… 

The electricity slammed into him like Thor’s hammer against his skull, and his entire body went rigid. Joker’s jaws clamped down against the rubber mouthpiece, his toes curled tight, and his back arched rose off the bed while his hands, trapped inside the straitjacket, squeezed into fists so tight that his nails broke the skin. Every muscle in his body went so rigid that he would feel the ache for a long time afterward. 

He stayed that way for a few seconds, his body bowed back as electricity and pain coursed through his body before Wells pulled the electrodes away. Joker didn’t stop seizing right away; his body was tight, every part of him shuddered with the tension caused by the electric current that had raced through his body, but he finally stopped. His body collapsed back against the gurney, falling with a loud thud. His eyes fluttered open and Joker looked up to see Wells smiling down at him, a vicious, cruel smile. 

“Did you enjoy that? I hope so, because there is more to come, so much more, Joker. It’s Saturday, the staff is short here at Arkham on the weekends--budget cuts and all.” He patted Joker’s cheek before he leaned down, his elbows on either side of Joker’s head. “But being short staffed does mean I have the entire asylum at my disposal. I can do whatever I want to you...except kill you...but sometimes death is too easy anyway, don’t you agree?” Wells grinned and caressed Joker’s cheeks. “Sometimes keeping them alive is the best. You, of all people, must know what I mean.” Joker narrowed his eyes, looking up at Dr. Wells. He couldn’t reply with the rubber piece in his mouth. He was effectively mute, but the hate in his eyes was cold and hard. Joker just kept staring and smiling around the mouthpiece while Dr. Wells smiled back. Joker didn’t fight or struggle, just stared, clearly smiling at the doctor until Dr. Wells, looking as pale as the gauze on his cheek, pushed himself back. Joker smiled a little wider. He might actually have admired Dr. Wells if the man had stood his ground just now, but as he suspected, Wells could only feel terrifying when he was in a position of power. He was like a little boy catching and drowning spiders that scared him, but if the spider was free he’d be terrified. 

Weak. 

Joker didn’t have a chance to think more about the doctor before Wells hit him with the electrojuice again. 

The burst of pain went longer this time. Joker’s body convulsed on the gurney, but his mind drifted away as the pain threatened to overwhelm him. His mind dropped him in his happy place, a carnival. As he looked around in confusion, Joker saw Harley riding a colorful plastic motorcycle on the merry-go-round, wearing a sleeveless red and black halter top dress. The skirt fluttered out by layers of tulle, her long blonde hair in pigtails that curled around her shoulders and she held a sucker in her mouth. She pulled the sucker out and smiled, her voice sweet and seductive. “Hey Mistah J, wanna ride your Harley?” 

He could endure it all, Joker promised himself again. If he could just be with her… 

* 

Joker wasn’t aware when the shock therapy ended, but the next thing he was conscious of was being dumped into a tub filled with cold, icy water. He came conscious with a loud gasp as the cold water, made all the colder because of the ice cubes in it, hit him. He was still wearing the straitjacket and his pants when he was thrown into the tub, but he might as well have been naked for all the good they did him against the cold. He had just grabbed a lungful of air a second before being shoved down under the water. 

His head was held under by the guard and one of the orderlies; he could feel their fingers digging into his scalp as they prevented him from coming up for air. Joker felt his lungs fighting him, he needed air, but every time he tried to come up, his legs kicking, the two men would adjust their grip on him and held him down. He stopped struggling, waiting a few precious seconds until their hands on his head relaxed just a fraction. That was when he slammed his feet against the back of the tub and shoved with all his strength, breaking through the surface of the water with another gasp. 

“Hold him in the tub for a few more minutes, zap him if you have to,” Dr. Wells snapped from the other side of the room where he was working with an ancient looking hose. He was turning a knob back and forth trying to adjust the pressure. Joker looked around, realized he was in one of the older rooms of the asylum, one of the rooms no longer in use, the hydrotherapy room. They’d stopped using this sort of therapy decades ago. He’d snuck in here once just to see the room--and to maybe drown a guard--but that was not the reason he’d come into the room in the first place. 

Still, it had ended up being a great place to kill someone. 

“Ooh, ho ho, you must really be upset about your face there Dr. Wells, going for some water torture, eh? Though you shouldn’t be darling. I promise, whatever I did was an improvement.” Joker laughed only to have his laugh cut off as he was shoved under the water again, but when he came back up he was laughing still. “I can’t believe how quickly you turned from doctor to maniac!! I’d almost admire you if I didn’t know what a scared little boy you are!” Joker’s head was shoved once more down into the water, held down until he was seeing spots before he was pulled up again. 

But when he came up for air, he was still laughing ,which clearly was upsetting everyone in the room by their pale faces and sickly pallor. 

Dr. Wells snarled, turning to address the men with him, but not looking at Joker. “Strip him, chain him up over there.” He gestured toward a corner of the room. 

Joker let himself be dragged out of the bath (dead weight again) and hauled over to what looked like a shower with a half curtain, but above it was a metal bar. The orderlies started to strip Joker naked, the two men clearly skittish because every time Joker twitched or jerked, the two men would jump a foot in the air, quickly backing away. If Joker had wanted to get away, if he had wanted to kill these men, he easily could have, but killing them wouldn’t help him right now, didn’t serve his purpose for being here. The doctors (with Batman’s help, he was sure) would stick him somewhere far away and deeper into Arkham so that he would lose his chance to get Harley back. (It was clear to Joker that some shenanigans were afoot amongst the staff and with Batman.) He knew without a doubt they would find a way to put him someplace Harley couldn’t find him. 

He couldn’t allow that to happen. 

So he simply laughed at their fear and let himself be handcuffed to the metal bar overhead. One orderly adjusted the bar’s height via a crank, pulling Joker’s arms up straight until he had to balance on his toes, naked and exposed. 

“This was a popular treatment back in the day,” Wells was saying as he stroked the hose. “Water therapy is still used today, though that is mostly swimming in pools. So dull though.” Wells walked closer, but Joker only smiled, shivering, his body covered in goosebumps that he was ignoring as he smiled at Dr. Wells. “You just wanted to see me naked, admit it doc. I mean, no one can blame you, I am quite the exhibit…” Joker swung back and forth on his toes, smiling broadly and giggling even as the handcuffs cut into his wrists and his toes ached from balancing on them. 

“You are a piece of trash, Joker. I don’t understand why Arkham allows creatures like you in our walls. You should be at Blackgate waiting for the chair!” Wells snarled, but Joker continued to chuckle, swinging himself like he was simply relaxing and having fun. “Wow Wells, one injury and it turns you into a monster. Kinda sad, don’t you think? I mean there are doctors, guards...” He glanced at North. “...who’ve had it worse than you, but you don’t see them torturing the patients that hurt them.” Joker smiled and swung back and forth. “Though I suppose not everyone has the balls to be a doctor, do they Wells, darling? Some of you just don’t have the thick hide it takes, the courage, the backbone…” 

Wells narrowed his eyes and turned the valve on the hose. Water slammed into Joker, cold and burning at the same time. The power of the water stung as it hit his skin, feeling as if it were peeling off layers of flesh as he spun him around. The water knocked him off his toes until all he could do was hang there, and let them torture him, spinning as the incredible force of the water hit him. He could hear them laughing at him... 

Squeezing his eyes shut, Joker focused on Harley... 

* 

Harleen frowned, her feet up on the couch, and her arms across her chest. It was late in the evening and she was dressed for comfort, wearing a pair of pink sweatpants and a large white sweater that could be worn as a dress. It was so long maybe it was a dress. (Harleen couldn’t be sure, but it didn’t look like anything she’d wear, except she was wearing it now. Go figure, she thought gloomily.) She had pulled on some thick pink cotton socks, wore her hair down, and watched TV with a frown. She wasn’t really watching it, though. There was some movie on, but she had no idea what it was about. The set was on more for the sound so she wouldn’t feel so alone. 

She was too busy thinking to watch. 

She’d been pacing her apartment all day, like a lion in its cage at the zoo. 

Bruce had shown up long enough to drop off some donuts before he’d said he had to go, something with the business had come up and he had to take care of it himself, but he would call her. 

He gave her a quick kiss on the mouth and left without another word. 

Except he had never called. 

She had thought about calling him, but stopped herself. She had been relieved when Bruce said he couldn’t stay because she was damned if she knew what she was going to do about him. She didn’t want to be in a relationship beyond friendship, but she’d stuck her foot in it with that kiss because clearly Bruce wanted something more. 

Groaning, Harleen fell over sideways on the couch while staring at the television. Her mind had otherwise been occupied with thinking about Joker. Thinking about the pale man had occupied most of her day, laying on her couch daydreaming about his eyes, his lips, what kissing him might have been like… 

There was a queasiness in her stomach as she thought about going yet another day without seeing him. 

Did that mean there was something wrong with her? 

Was she obsessing over the man? The asylum patient? 

Why was she so focused on a psychotic clown instead of the handsome billionaire that was her friend? The friend who clearly liked her as more than friends. He was more than just her friend, but clearly her best friend. Look at everything he’d done for her since her accident and the loss of her memory. He’d gone above and beyond. 

And here she was repulsed by the idea of kissing him, but the thought of kissing the Joker made her stomach fill pleasantly with butterflies. 

Something was clearly wrong with her. All she could think about was getting to see Joker again, needing to see him again. She had no idea why, but it felt like a pull in her chest. She needed to see the man. 

As Harleen stared at the television, watching the movie play, she realized that the movie she was watching was the first Mission: Impossible. It was the scene in which Tom Cruise was lowered down by a wire into some room to hack into a computer. Slowly, as Harleen watched the scene, she sat up slowly, her eyes narrowed as an idea began to take shape. 

Hopping up, Harleen rushed over to the window that looked out onto the city. There was a small balcony, the sort meant for decorative plants, not people... 

She pulled the windows open and stepped out. She was twelve stories up and though many other taller buildings stood across the landscape, she could see all of Gotham City. She looked down. 

It was a long way down… 

The air felt chilly, but as she looked along the building, she could see an edge, just big enough that she thought she could shimmy along it--maybe on her toes--but it could be done. She leaned over as far as she dared and looked down below. She saw another thin ledge and one of those window washer pulley things they used to wash the windows hanging near the corner to her left three floors down from her. It would be a bit of a walk, but she was sure she could walk slowly over to the far edge, drop down to the ledge below, then drop again onto the window washer thing...then lower herself down to the sidewalk using its pulley system. From there she could grab a cab. She should have enough money. Bruce gave her an allowance for the vending machines for the month, if she put all that together... 

Easy peasy. 

Yeah... 

This was her chance. Bruce probably wasn’t coming over tonight, she was alone. The first time she had been alone since waking up from her accident, her first and maybe her only chance to do something as stupid as this. Her heart beat quickly as she started to come up with a plan. It was a stupid plan, for sure, but the thought that she might get to see Joker tonight gave her strength and courage and maybe, as Captain Jack Sparrow said, maybe she was crazy and it’d be a good thing too, because if she wasn’t, this might not work. 

* 

It took her half an hour to gather her money, mostly coins with a few dollar bills, into a coin purse that she pulled from her purse. She transferred that to a simple mini Gucci backpack she found in her closet along with some gloves, a small waist-length coat, socks, and some running shoes. She changed into black leggings and a tight black turtleneck, leaving her hands and feet bare for her climb. Being a gymnast (at least she remembered some of that) Harleen was counting on being limber enough to make this climb (though she did do some warm up stretches first.) She pulled her hair up into a bun and headed out to the balcony. 

Looking back down, the cold already threatening to make her fingers and toes numb, Harleen climbed over the side of the balcony. 

“God this is so stupid,” she muttered to herself even as she held onto the small balcony’s edge and slowly inched out onto the ledge. “So stupid, so stupid…” she muttered like a mantra, letting go of the balcony and turned to press her back against the window, looking down at the street so many floors below. 

“So fucking stupid Harleen…” Harleen muttered at herself as she started to move along the edge toward her goal.


	10. Over the Edge

It was early Saturday morning, before Harleen decided to try and leave her apartment when it was clear Bruce would not be coming over... 

Bruce sat in the dark green velvet bergère chair in the family room, his chair facing the fireplace. His back felt a little warm, but he didn’t care. He was too angry at the intrusion into his life to worry about being a bit too warm. 

Sitting on the matching sofa across from him were Dick and Barbara. They both looked good, dressed like a couple of average twenty-somethings, their joined hands resting on Barbara’s lap, her legs crossed, and leaning into Dick. Bruce had to admit it was nice to see that they were still together; he worried about them. Being a couple was difficult for average people, but they were both vigilantes, which only made a relationship more difficult. That was something he understood quite well. They had driven in from Bludhaven early this morning. They both still looked tired--who knew how late they had been up the night before and how little sleep they had actually gotten. Next to them in a matching chair sat Tim, who had skipped out on a day with his dad to be here. Tim was growing up into a fine young man, Bruce knew. Tim leaned his elbows on his knees, had that fresh face and intelligent gaze that made him a good crime fighting partner. Behind Tim’s chair stood Alfred, who looked sad, dour, and a little upset. In fact, they all were all looking at him with concern. 

Bruce narrowed his eyes. This was definitely some sort of intervention. 

“So to what do I owe the family reunion?” Bruce asked leaning back in his chair and trying to appear at ease. 

Dick and Barbara exchanged a look while Tim glanced over at them for direction. Dick finally spoke softly. “Alfred told us what you’ve been doing.” 

“Oh he has, has he? And what did he tell you?” Bruce’s brow creased as he glanced at Alfred who met his gaze. The aging man did not look the least bit ashamed that he had called in the family. 

Dick took a breath. “He told us what you are doing to Harley Quinn.” 

Bruce pressed his lips together in a full frown. “Harley Quinn doesn’t exist anymore.” 

“Bruce, you know that isn’t true!” Barbara sat forward on the couch, though she kept a hold of Dick’s hand. “Alfred told us about the car accident she was in and the memory loss that followed.” Bruce glanced again at Alfred. He couldn’t help but feel a little betrayed by his butler, his father figure, and his friend. “That’s true. She has no memory of her time as Harley Quinn or of the Joker.” A hint of a growl crept into Bruce’s tone as he spoke. “I decided that this was an opportunity to give Harleen back the life she should have had before the Joker ruined her life.” 

“Bruce, but really, is that your decision to make?” Barbara asked with feeling. “Shouldn’t she be given the facts so that Harley...I mean Harleen...” It appeared to Bruce that Barbara had trouble saying the name. “...shouldn’t Harleen be given a chance to know who she is?” 

“Who she was,” Bruce snapped. “And no. Knowing about her alter ego could ruin her chances of recovery.” He looked at them all earnestly. “She could have an entirely new life now. Why don’t you all understand that?” 

Barbara sighed. “Maybe she could, but she might not be able to either. You have to accept that you have no control over what happens Bruce. Her memory loss might not be permanent, she could remember everything at any time…” Barbara tried to reason with him, but Bruce shook his head. 

“No, she won’t. You haven’t met her since she lost her memories, you haven’t seen the changes in her...she’s a completely different woman.” Bruce’s tone sounded gentle. “Harleen is a sweet, kind, intelligent…” He took a breath. “She is a wonderful person. When you meet her, you’ll understand.” He looked at all of them. “She has a real chance now…” 

Dick spoke up next, his tone filled with both fear and disgust. “Alfred says you are keeping her in an apartment like a prisoner.” 

“Harleen is not a prisoner!” Bruce snapped louder than he intended, but he quickly wrangled his tone back under control. “She is not a prisoner, though she is still having difficulties with her memory. I am simply keeping her safe.” He looked at each of them in turn. “When we are sure her memory loss is indeed permanent then...well…” He shrugged. “...I’ll give her more freedom, but right now she needs to be watched, taken care of.” 

“By controlling where she goes, who she sees, and what information she has access to? Sounds an awful lot like you are keeping her prisoner to me,” Dick snapped back. “A bird in a gilded cage so to speak, your pretty pet maybe?” 

Bruce glowered at Dick who wasn’t finished. “What are you afraid of Bruce? If she’s cured, if Harley Quinn is gone, then why keep such a tight hold on her?” Dick asked, his tone challenging. Barbara gave Dick a look that begged him to be less confrontational, but Dick ignored her as he continued, despite the glare from Bruce. Barbara could see the tension in Bruce’s jaw; the man was grinding his teeth. 

“And what is your stake in this Bruce? Why are you the one taking care of her? Why are you the one focused on her rehabilitation? Shouldn’t she be in a hospital, seeing a professional?” Dick frowned at his father figure and mentor. “What is going on with you Bruce?” 

Bruce was quiet for a couple of beats before he muttered. “I don’t need to explain myself to you.” 

“Maybe you do,” Alfred said quietly. “I fear that you are becoming too attached to her Master Bruce, that you might be becoming…” Alfred pressed his lips together until they formed a thin line. “...obsessed with her.” Alfred didn’t flinch under the weight of Bruce’s glare. “Bruce, you have taken all of this too far with that young woman. Not only is she not your responsibility, but I fear that you are setting yourself up for a fall, for a heartache and, I fear that what you are doing with Harleen is going to make the Joker so much worse. When he learns of your hand in this, of Batman’s hand in this…” Alfred shook his head. “That clown is unhinged at the best of times, but I fear without Harley Quinn to temper him, we haven’t seen the worst that he can do. A heartbroken psychotic clown will be bad for this city in ways I don’t think we can imagine, but to have him realize that losing her was because of you will be so much worse.” Alfred’s voice dropped to a whisper on the last few words. “He dislikes Batman--we all know that--this will make him hate you and he’ll hate Bruce Wayne if you become involved with Harleen Quinzel.” 

“So what do you want me to do, just give her to him?” Bruce asked, incredulous. “Just give up on her? I won’t do that. I will not give her back to that homicidal clown Alfred.” 

“No, but you need to put some distance between you,” Alfred said sadly. “And perhaps you need to let Harleen make some decisions about what she wants.” 

Bruce shook his head and stood, starting to pace. “She is doing too well for me to back off now,” he said quietly, but firmly. “She’s too delicate to just end her world again, but telling her she was Harley Quinn, a criminal almost as insane as Joker...I won’t do that to her. I won’t see the weeks of progress she’s made in becoming who she was supposed to be destroyed because you…” He looked at all of them. “...think I’ve crossed a line.” 

Each of them shared a glance, unsure exactly what to do next. 

* 

That evening. 

Harleen inched slowly along the edge. Now that she was out here, with eleven stories below her, the edge looked--and felt--a lot smaller than she had first realized. The wind blew a lot stronger too. She had her back pressed against the window (though the pack on her back made it difficult, it was her shoes in her backpack were preventing her from being completely flat.) Her heart hammered in her chest, the beat loud in her ears as Harleen slinked along. She focused her gaze on the corner of the building, but she realized as she did that, she really didn’t have any hand holds out there. There were some variations in the concrete wall to hold onto, but they were few and far between; if she slipped there wasn’t much for her to grab onto to save herself. That made her pause and look down again. Her bare toes were hanging off the edge, numb with cold. She could see the streetlights highlighting the sidewalk far below her, the hedges, some trash cans, occasionally a person would walk by... 

If she slipped, she’d be dead, if she was lucky. The worse outcome would be that she would live, but all her bones would be shattered, she could break her neck... 

“Stop it Harleen...stop thinking about falling, stop looking over the edge, just stop all of it and move,” she hissed in a whisper to herself. “Focus on your goal, one step at a time…” 

Closing her eyes for a couple of beats, she took a few breaths to try to calm herself before she slowly opened her eyes again. She didn’t feel any calmer, but she did start to move again, focusing on simply moving along to the corner of the building. Harleen tried to focus solely on the sound of the occasional car and the hum of the city in the distance, not her heartbeat or the wind that pulled and buffeted her. 

After what felt like forever, inching slowly and carefully along, Harleen reached the edge. Shivering, her toes and fingers painfully numb from the cold, Harleen looked down. She could see the window washer pulley system two floors down from her--not far, a short distance, she told herself. 

“You got this Harleen…” she whispered to herself as she slowly turned herself around to face the building, then just as carefully lowered herself down into an awkward crouch. She was thankful for the cold because it was preventing her hands and feet from becoming too sweaty, despite the fact that she was terrified. Now she just needed to hang over, feel with her toes at the building's corner until she felt a grip, then slowly lower herself and climb down the corner. 

Easy. 

Moving with care, ready to yank herself back (hopefully) if her grip faltered, Harleen eased herself down and gently lowered her legs over the edge. There was a split second of absolutely, terrified panic as her legs dangled in space. She started to kick and struggle, readying to haul herself back up, but that movement made the strain on her shoulders and arms worse. Harleen’s breath was ragged as panic took over, her arms and shoulder shuddering with the strain of holding herself up and forcing herself to keep from struggling. 

“Stop it…” Harleen hissed at herself, closing her eyes despite the fact that she was hanging off the side of the building. “Focus. You are going to see Joker, you are leaving to go see Joker, your patient,” Harleen muttered at herself. “Well, you know it's more than that...I guess...I don’t know.” She groaned muttering again, “I can’t believe I’m on a ledge arguing with myself...funny.” She took a breath and blew it out hard even as she shivered with cold, wishing she could have put a thick coat on, but that would have made it hard to move. “This is easy, nothing any more difficult than doing the balance beam or the parallel bars, or even vault. You’ve done all those--I remember that.” She smiled and let out a breath again. “You can do this, it’s important that you do this Harls.” 

Taking a few deep breaths through her nose, Harleen reached over to the corner with her foot. Biting her bottom lip and focusing her attention on the task rather than the potential ugly outcomes, she felt around until she finally found a lip with her big toe. Moving like a sloth, Harleen pulled herself closer to the corner, inching her toes around until she got her other foot on the lip, just barely an inch of space, but it was enough to allow her to move onto the corner, her fingers finding other tiny concrete lips to grip onto and hold herself steady, her breath puffing out large clouds of steam. She was freezing, but she barely noticed it except where it made her fingers and toes stiff. 

Trembling, but focused, Harleen lowered herself down, feeling with her toes and fingers for each new hand and foot hold, finding more little places to grab on and balance until she could see the ledge of the next floor right beside her. Letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, Harleen reached over with a leg, feeling with her toes until she had the edge before beginning to ease herself over. 

Harleen’s heart started to beat at a more normal pace and her breathing became less ragged, steady. She was on another ledge now, her face pressed against dark glass, her breath fogging the cold glass. She couldn’t see inside the building well at all. There was one light on, but it was small and too far into the room to provide any real light. What she could see looked like it might be an office space. For just a moment Harleen thought about trying to break the glass and climb inside, but quickly calmed herself. She could do this she reminded herself, she could do this... 

Pressing her lips together Harleen started to ease her way around. 

That was when her luck ran out. 

She had just turned to face the city again when her foot slipped on the cold ledge. Once her foot slipped off the ledge, the rest of Harleen went with it. She didn’t scream only because the shock of falling had stolen all her air from her. She twisted in the air, reaching for the ledge, but her fingers slipped past. She reached with a panicked gasp, trying desperately to grab for anything to hold onto, but there was nothing. 

Her eyes widened as she fell only to have her back slam into something hard a half-second later. The sudden shock and pain made her gasp; all the air rushed from her lungs in a painful whoosh. She laid there for a second or two while her shoes in her backpack dug painfully between her shoulder blades as she slowly realized she was alive. Then she heard the sound of something metal grinding. She looked around without moving, her eyes landing on the pulley just as the thing gave and the platform plunged. 

Swallowing a scream, Harleen grabbed the sides and closed her eyes. She felt the cold wind rush past her and through her, then suddenly come to a stop with a hard jerk that nearly flipped Harleen out over the side. She heard the crash below her as one of the buckets that had been on the platform when she fell toppled over and hit the sidewalk below. Remaining perfectly still, Harleen waited, waited to see if the platform was going to drop again, or if someone was going to start yelling...but after a few moments she realized nothing was going to happen. 

Slowly, Harleen eased herself up, standing carefully and looked down. She could just barely see the bucket down below, but no one came out of the building to look. Harleen let out a sigh, her entire body sagging before she slowly allowed herself a smile. 

* 

The cabby stopped in front of the asylum after they had passed through the gate. The man looked dubious about dropping off the petite blonde, but he wasn’t paid enough to play bodyguard to young women making stupid decisions. Living in Gotham, he’d driven hundreds of young women making bad choices. 

“You sure you work here?” He gazed up at the asylum with a shudder. 

Harleen had to admit the place looked completely different at night than during the day. There was something about the asylum that made her feel a deep well of despair and fear seeing it at night, something she had not felt during the day. As she stared up at the main building, she was suddenly overcome with a feeling of fear mixed with hatred, though her emotions felt a little unfocused, like the building was just part of what was wrong. Along with the anger and fear was an intense feeling of déjà vu. Harleen shuddered, wrapping her arms tight around herself as she stared up at the asylum. 

“You okay lady?” the cabby asked, turning around to look at her through the plexiglass divide. 

“Yeah, I’m fine…” Pulling her backpack off the seat next to her, Harleen dug into it and pulled out her ID, leaning forward to show the cabby. “Here,” she said handing him the card, turning away from the asylum. 

He frowned, taking her ID to examine it. “Dr. Harleen Quinzel...you’re a doctor? No offense lady, but you look too young to be a doctor.” He handed the ID back to her. 

“Thanks,” Harleen said with a smile, putting her ID around her neck. “How much do I owe you?” 

* 

Harleen quickly paid the cabby, which took most of her cash, then stepped out to look up at the building. Luckily, there shouldn’t be anyone here now who she saw during the day; it was evening and the weekend. If she moved carefully, she should be able to get to Joker without anyone even seeing her. The guards might be a little more difficult, but flashing her ID should get her through. 

Taking a deep breath Harleen looked around once more. Her heart was beating quickly as if she expected Bruce to appear at any moment, but she saw nothing and no one. Just a cold November evening making the trees whisper. It was strange, but her fear was mixed with a heady dose of excitement, the thrill of doing something stupid, wrong, and dangerous. She wanted to laugh, to giggle at all of it, but she pressed her lips together to stop herself from making any sound.

“Okay...let’s do this.” Harleen reached for the door. 

* 

Harleen tiptoed quickly and quietly down the hall when she heard the first scream from a patient. A mournful cry of desperation and fear mixed with a loneliness that was so acute that Harleen felt her heart twist in her chest at the sound. When the cry went up, she quickly ducked into the first room with an unlocked door, bringing the door to, but not closing it, leaving just enough of a crack that she could see out. 

The cry was met by another sound of pain and loneliness, but after another minute, everything was silent again. Harleen started to step out of the room when she stopped and looked around for a moment. She was in an office. She saw a desk that held some paperwork, a lamp, but the room was too dark to see what the frames on the wall held. What did catch her eyes was the doctor's coat hanging on the back of the chair. Grabbing it, Harleen quickly slipped her backpack off and slipped into the coat. It would help “disguise” her to the staff, she thought with a grin as she clipped her ID to the jacket’s pocket and tossed her bag over one shoulder. Once she had the coat on, Harleen looked out into the hall one more time before slipping out and heading to her destination. 

She had just turned the corner for the elevators when she heard someone from behind her say, “Working late doctor?” 

Harleen stiffened, her eyes going wide, her heart skipping several beats as nervous energy raced through her. She balled her hands into fists, ready to do...something. Violence was her first thought, but she mentally tamped that down. She turned slowly while trying to get her breathing under control. She saw a guard--not one she recognized--a young man, attractive, sandy blond hair, walking her way with a smile. 

“Oh, evening,” she said softly, relaxing a fraction as the thought that if she had attacked him and managed to knock him out, where would she put the body? And why was her first reaction to be violent? Dismissing the strange thoughts Harleen focused on the guard, giving him a small smile. 

The guard smiled back at her reaching up to tip the ball cap he was wearing. “Have a good one doctor,” he said as he passed her by and kept going. 

Once the man turned a corner and Harleen listened to his retreating footsteps for a moment, she groaned silently and leaned against the wall. “Jesus…” she muttered, pressing her hand to her chest. 

She took a deep breath and hurried to the elevator. 

* 

The darkness was thick down around Joker’s cell, though she could see the weak watery light from the one ceiling lights in the hall down below. The light did little to cut through the darkness, though it was trying, and it felt cold down here, could enough Harleen could see little puffs of her breath. She was glad she had backtracked to the janitor’s closet to grab some extra blankets, after grabbing the key to Joker’s cell that she had hidden there, a move her gut had told her to do. Holding the blankets made her look busy and she wondered if Joker would appreciate them. It was cool down here during the day, she could only imagine how cold it was during the evenings, and now she knew. 

When she slipped through the door, Harleen carefully made her way down the stairs, tiptoeing to Joker’s cell. She wasn’t sure why she was being so quiet. There was no one down here but her and Joker. Still, she moved with stealth until she was in front of his cell. She looked through the window, found it difficult to make out much of anything in the weak light, but she thought she saw him lying on his bunk. 

She slipped the key into the lock, twisted it, and opened the door carefully. She tried not to make any noise as she slipped inside and pulled the door close behind her. She turned, letting her eyes adjust to the dimness. 

“Joker?” she asked softly, then sucked in a startled breath when she saw him better. 

Joker was lying on the cot, his back to her, curled in on himself. He was naked, his clothing lying tossed on the floor in a corner of the room, clothes that looked soaking wet. He had his legs pulled up and his arms wrapped around his shoulders while his body shuddered. The weak illumination washed out his already ghostly pallor, causing his spine to stand out harshly in the light, making him look thinner and vulnerable. As Harleen gazed over his body, she saw the droplets of water on his skin, shimmering in the light like crystals. He was shivering, shuddering with cold, but Harleen couldn’t see a blanket anywhere. As she stepped closer to him, she could see that Joker wasn’t just wet, he was soaked to the skin. His hair stuck to his face hiding his narrow, sharp features and his teeth chattered audibly. 

“Oh god, what happened to you?” Harleen gasped in shock as she sat down next to him, dropping her pack on the floor and swiftly unfolded the blankets she had brought. She tried to wrap them around him, but he didn’t stop shivering and the blankets just weren’t very big or thick for that matter. 

Joker slowly rolled his head around to look at her, his eyes almost hidden by the wet strands of green hair, but his eyes shone a glowing blue when he looked at her. “Harley?” 

Harleen smiled and stroked his jaw. Her heart beating quickly with worry for him, her eyes stung with tears as she felt his jaw trembling. 

“It's me. Can you sit up, let me wrap these around you?” Her voice was gentle, but Joker didn’t move. 

Shivering violently, his teeth chattering, Joker whispered. “Am I dreaming? I’ve dreamed about you…” His voice was barely a whisper and hard to hear with the chattering of his teeth. “You were smiling, holding me…” He frowned, confused. “ You k-kissed me so sweetly…” 

“Shh....” Harleen said softly, reaching out to brush his hair from his eyes. As she moved his emerald hair back, she saw the burns at Joker’s temples. They were red and harsh against his pale skin; the marks were a horrible, bright and angry red. 

Her finger shook as she reached out, but didn’t touch the burns. “What happened?” 

Joker was trembling too much and his skin felt ice cold. He started to answer her, but shuddered instead, his teeth chattering. 

“We need to warm you up…” Harleen hissed standing up, her tone determined. 

Joker turned halfway over to watch her as Harleen stood and swiftly began to strip, pulling off her doctor’s coat and her shirt. Considering the situation and the meager supplies available, body heat was the quickest way to warm him she told herself. She quickly kicked off her shoes and yanked her socks off, pulled her leggings down, piling all of it on the floor. Once she was down to her sports bra and panties, she crawled onto the small bunk. “Can you roll over?” 

Joker didn’t answer, though he did move slowly. Harleen saw that it was difficult for him to move; he was nearly frozen. Harleen reached over to help him onto his other side. He immediately started to pull his legs up, but she forced them down, her eyes raking over his naked body with a slight frown. She could see scars on him, most of them small, but there were a few that spoke of serious injuries that made her heart stop and her blood run cold. He had been through hell at several points in his life. 

Once she had him facing her, Harleen adjusted herself on the cot and laid down, wrapping her arms around him and pulled him against her, pressing his head to her chest. His skin felt like ice and his cold, wet hair made her shiver. She had left the blankets at the foot of the bed, so she reached up and pulled them over them, while she wrapped her legs around him, one leg between his, the other wrapped around his thigh. 

Pressing her lips against his cold wet hair, Harleen held him against her body. She sang in a whispered voice while she rubbed her hands over his back and arms gently, making sure to keep the blankets around them. The song she began to sing wasn’t one that she knew, or at least not one that she remembered knowing, but the words came easily to her. 

“Only you 

Can make the world seem right 

Only you 

Can make the darkness seem bright 

Only you, and you alone 

Can thrill me like you do 

And fill my heart with love for only you…” 

* 

She dropped into a hum and kissed his hair, then his ear, her lips traveled to his temple, kissing the burns gently. Joker moved his head, his nose gently rubbed against the top of her breasts, and his breath was warm. “Harley…” he whispered, a temor in his voice. “My sweet Harley...I’ve missed you so much.” His voice broke and his arms around her tightened as he pulled her closer. She felt hot tears against her skin. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered, his voice husky with emotion. “My pumpkin pie...my Harley. I can’t live without you.” 

Harleen brushed her fingers through his hair, tilting his head so she could gaze into his eyes, vivid blue eyes filled with such pain she could feel the emotion like a wrench tightening around her heart. She didn’t think about it, didn’t think about all the reasons she shouldn’t be doing this, why it was wrong, the most obvious of which was that she was a doctor, he was a patient. Instead she let her feelings, her need--and his--guide her. 

She kissed him, a slow, tender kiss at first, let herself explore the texture of his tongue and lips. Joker let her, reaching up slowly with shaking fingers to touch her face. His lips were cold when she kissed him, at first a simple brush of her lips against his, followed by a gentle stroke of her tongue. Joker opened his mouth to her, his tongue sliding out to touch the tip of hers, and it was as if everything inside her caught on fire. Harleen felt a rush of warmth flood over her, prompting her to deepen the kiss. Her tongue slid into Joker’s mouth. They pulled each other closer, their tongues gently caressing, twisting. Joker made the sweetest sound of want and need that Harleen had ever heard, more fuel for the heat in her belly and her mind. 

The difference in how she felt between kissing Joker and kissing Bruce was astonishing, no comparison, she realized. Kissing Bruce had felt awkward and so wrong, whereas kissing Joker felt like kissing a storm, a storm that washed over her and took every coherent thought with it. She had no desire to try to pull those thoughts back, only wanted to ride the wave wherever it would take her. 

Kissing Joker felt right in a way that she didn’t understand, but she felt like this was where she belonged, in his arms. 

She just wanted to feel, to feel him, to feel these strange, crazed desires that he ignited in her. 

The kiss was both familiar and new. His lips were soft and his tongue was sweet just like she knew he would be. Harleen lightly nipped at his lips, his beautifully shaped lips, taking her time to feel the softness of them as the fire in her belly began to burn brighter and hotter before plunging her tongue into his mouth again, making Joker whimper softly and pull her closer. His hands glided up her back, causing Harleen to shiver, not from the cold, but from the feel of his fingers against her skin. Joker’s touch sent bolts of heat throughout her body. 

Something boiled inside her, a fire that spread everywhere and overwhelmed her. She had never felt desire like she did at this moment, an intensity of want so strong, so powerful that it almost hurt. Her aching need for this man burned away any lingering doubts that clung to the corners of her mind. 

Instead Harleen listened to her body. 

She rolled Joker onto his back; he went willingly while pulling her with him. Straddling him, Harleen ran her fingers through his wet hair, brushing it back from his pale face while she kissed him. As their lips and tongues met, she pressed herself down against his quickly hardening member. Harleen wanted him, wanted him like she had never wanted anything before. It was more than want, she realized. She needed him because only he could fill the gap, alleviate the ache she felt inside. No matter how wrong this was, Harleen knew she needed Joker. 

Part of her wondered if she was taking advantage of him? Something terrible had clearly happened to him and she wanted to comfort him, to hold him (which was another intense desire, a desire to protect this man), but that need to care for this strange, psychotic man, to be the doctor he needed was mixed with her physical desires. It all served to create a wellspring of confusion in her thoughts even as she desired Joker with a painful need. 

Joker groaned, kissing her. He wasn’t sure if he was dreaming, if all this was in his head, that the torture had finally made his snap with reality permanent, but he didn’t care at the moment. He simply let himself feel. His need for Harley, his desire to have her back with him had left a deep ache in his soul, a wound that hurt him more than any physical pain could ever do. 

Harleen sat back, pulling away from Joker’s mouth, making him whimper again, but as he reached to pull her back, he stopped and watched as she pulled her sports bra off to toss it aside. He had to be dreaming, he thought as the dim light that leaked though the window in the room’s door caressed the peaches and cream of Harley’s skin. His Harley... 

He reached up slowly, his hands sliding along her waist up to her breasts. His fingertips caressed the roundness of her breasts, then stroked along her nipples. She arched into his touch with a moan, a sound so deep that it sent shivers across his skin that had nothing to do with the cold. 

“Harley…” He choked with emotion as he murmured her name only to have her answer with another kiss. 

Harleen moaned softly, dropping down to her hands over him and gazed into his eyes for a moment. Joker gazed back at her. She saw love clear in his eyes. He loved her? She didn’t understand what was happening. There were so many emotions twisting in her chest: pleasure, lust, loss, and something else...Did she love him? She didn’t understand what she was feeling at all, the intensity of which stung her eyes, tears forming at the corners. 

Instead of examining her feelings, Harleen kissed her way down Joker’s neck. She’d forgotten about getting him warm. Now all she could seem to focus on was her desire. She kissed her way down his slender pale form, letting her lips and tongue trace the curves of muscles and scars. She wasn’t thinking clearly, but she knew his body, somehow knew every inch of him, every scar, the taste of his skin, the way he smelled. All of these sensations rolled over Harleen as she kissed and licked her way down his torso. She knew this man, but Harleen didn’t dwell on those thoughts, on the how or why. She let the thought come and go quickly (they were frightening thoughts.) Instead she focused on her desire and let that emotion drive her. 

Tracing his hips with her tongue and fingers, then along the smooth flatness of skin just under his belly, Harleen made her way down to his groin, kneeling between his legs. She wrapped a hand around his erection, her other hand caressing his belly. Joker responded with a soft, husky groan, his fingers brushing against her hair. Very slowly, tenderly, she rubbed his erection against her cheek, across her lips, drinking in the smooth, satin warmth of his shaft as hot blood pumped into his member. The scent of his skin, masculine and sweet, glided over her, a scent that was so familiar to her, like a wonderful memory that she couldn’t place, but deeply wanted to revisit. Joker groaned loudly and deeply, his hands reaching down to caress her cheek as he moaned her name, the name he called her. 

“Harley…” 

Harleen kissed the tip of his erection before she covered his member in soft, tender kisses that she mixed with gentle presses of her teeth and licks of her tongue, giving herself over to her carnal, undeniable desires. Her lips brushed slowly against the thickness of him, her free hand caressing his hip and down his thigh. This felt so familiar, like déjà vu, a dream she didn’t want to leave. 

Wrapping her lips around him, Harleen sucked his erection into her mouth with a deep moan of pleasure that was echoed by Joker. The sound of his pleasure made her wet and ache like she had never felt before. Sucking tenderly and deeply on him, Harleen slowly bobbed her head while Joker writhed under her, making little groans and hisses of pleasure, his fingers jerking against her hair and cheek. 

Slowly she pulled her lips back up, her tongue wrapping around him, snaking back and forth against the underside of his erection, coating him with her saliva before she eased herself off of him and the cot. 

In seconds, she shimmied out of her panties, not letting herself think too much about what she was doing, about the implications of a doctor sleeping with a patient, before crawling back on top of him, her mouth finding his again. Joker’s hands slid along her hips, down to cup her ass, his caresses communicating his need as he returned her kisses with desperate need. Adjusting herself, Harleen reached down, still not allowing herself to think about the consequences of her actions, only focusing on her need for this strange, psychotic, wounded, yet oddly familiar man. Gently, making herself slow down, Harleen lowered herself on him with a shudder and a deep moan. 

Joker let out a deep, almost mournful groan of pleasure. “Harley…” 

“Uhh...Joker.” Closing her eyes, Harleen arched up and pressed herself down on him. His shaft pierced her deeply, finding places deep within her that she didn’t realize he could touch. Pleasure rippled through her like fire, burning every inch of her skin. Pressing her hands against his chest, her nails biting into his pale skin, Harleen arched her back with a gasp. This was where she belonged, this was what she needed, to be with this man and this man alone. Biting her bottom lip, Harleen tried to steady herself, but his erection inside her felt too good, too right. She moved slowly at first, wanting to enjoy every moment of this. Grinding herself down on him firmly, with purpose, Harleen screwed her eyes closed for a beat before she opened them again to look down at him. She needed to watch him while she fucked him, needed to know...something. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but whatever it was she found it in his eyes. 

Gasping loudly, Harleen ground a little harder, feeling ripples of pleasure roll and course through her body. 

Joker smiled back at her, his grip on her rear--which had been tight enough she was sure he was going to leave bruises on her body--softened. His eyes glowed a soft, tender blue, his green hair brushed back from his face. The only thing missing, Harleen thought with a second of confused curiosity, was the red on his lips as she dropped down to kiss him again, slowly, gently thrusting down over over him. She shuddered with the warm, wet slip and slide of his erection inside her. He thrust back softly, gazing up at her with an expression that Harleen felt certain was love. 

“Harley…” Joker groaned, wrapping his arms tight around her and pulling her closer with another breathless moan. “...Uuhh...Harley…” 

Harleen’s breathing became more and more ragged as she moved a little faster over Joker. Grinding against him, feeling him inside her felt like home, felt like the most real thing in her world. 

Arching her back, she pushed back again with a moan while Joker reached up to squeeze her breasts. Reaching back, Harleen pulled her hair down, letting her long locks of blonde hair fall to her shoulders as she slid up and down his erection, the wet sound of their fucking mixing with her breathless panting. “Joker…” Throwing her head back, Harleen ran her hands over his slender chest, arching back with another moan. “Oh god…” She thrust a little harder as Joker gripped her hips and hissed, “Harley...my sweet, sweet Harley.” 

Biting her lip, Harleen whimpered. She was coming closer and closer to orgasm. She felt like she was in a tailspin, as if everything around her was spinning out of the control. At the same time being with him felt right, as if he was meant to be the center of her world. 

She came with a loud, anguished cry, her nails digging into his chest. 

Joker hissed, arching his hips into her, holding himself back while she used him, her thrusting against him becoming harder to resist. “Harley!! Uh…” He tossed his head back, his expression a mix of pain and pleasure. 

Her orgasm felt like a ripple through her body, accompanied by tiny explosions all over her body. She felt tears prink at the corners of her eyes, but she didn’t stop--she needed another, needed to climb that mountain again. Dropping down, Harleen cupped the back of Joker’s head, her fingers tangling in his green hair as she kissed him, thrusting harder, faster. Her hair created a veil around them as she kissed him, biting gently at his lips while she slowly rose up and down on him, groaning each time she rose up and lowered herself down. The wet sound of their bodies coming together mixed with their ragged breathing filled the room. 

Joker held onto her, a rock in the storm that was his Harley. 

* 

He was torn, happy that she was here, that they were together, wounded that she still didn’t remember him, or remember their life together, but there was also a worry, a dark seed of terror in his soul that this moment wasn’t what he had been hoping for, that this didn’t mean what he hoped it did. Maybe no matter what they shared, Harley was lost to him; but he just as quickly buried his doubts. He needed her, needed to feel this close to her again, to finally assure himself that this wasn’t a dream. Still, there was part of him, a dark whispering voice that said this wasn't his path back to Harley, that this was in fact a dream, a hallucination, a teasing dream from his tortured mind. He had lost Harley and this was a punishment, to show him what had been stolen from him. Stroking her skin, gazing at her, all of her, Joker wanted to die. If that was true, if he’d truly lost Harley, then he wanted to die, right now, during this perfect dream when he could taste her kisses and feel her skin. 

A dream of her that he could take with him to the grave. 

Yanking her up a little closer, Joker kissed her throat, shoulders, her breasts, stroking his tongue against her nipples, and listening to the sweet sounds she made before he returned to her mouth to kiss her deeply. Listening to the delicious sound of her excitement, her pleasure, the liquid heat of being embedded in her, made him shudder. His Harley surrounded him with her body, her fluids, her scent, everything about her...if this was his last moment with Harley, he would take it and then hope that death claimed him before the crushing despair could fill the void that not having her left. 

He hissed through his teeth, his entire body going rigid as he fought against his orgasm...not yet...not yet, he mentally chanted to himself. 

He needed this to last...to last forever...to chase away the horrors of his life right now...to feel her presence...his Harley...his love... 

But his body refused to obey him. 

He came with a hard, vicious yank, and Joker cried out. His cry of pleasure was loud and anguished, his body bending into her as he emptied himself into his Harley... 

Tears ran hot down his cheeks. 

* 

Harleen gasped and pleasure washed through her as tears rolled down her cheeks. Rippling over her entire body, the intensity was almost more than she could bear. She cried out, pressing her forehead against Joker’s and cried out with him, a sweet name bubbling to her lips from the depths of darkness, from the shadows of memories that haunted her, memories she couldn’t recall. 

“Puddin…” she whispered with a moan at the peak of her orgasm. 

Joker whimpered at the sound of her pet name for him. Thrusting back, he felt a burst of erotic pleasure wash over him at the sound of her name for him, the feel of her body against his, around him, flooding his scents with her. “Harls…” 

His orgasm met hers, an explosion of sensation that wrapped around them both. Tears filled his eyes. She had called him puddin!! 

He held her tight, kissed her softly, tenderly as he whispered, “My sweets…” 

* 

They lay on his bunk, wrapped around each other. Harleen was gently stroking Joker’s drying hair, the blankets pulled up to cover their bodies, still intimately connected. Joker lazily ran his fingers along her spine, the heat of her body seeping into his, creating a warmth that relaxed him, easing the pain he’d been through, made every bit of pain worth it for this moment with her. He sucked in a shuddering breath, held her tight in his arms, unwilling to let her go. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he nuzzled against her throat whispering. “Harley. I missed you so much.” 

Harleen held him tightly, but her mind was in turmoil. What had she just done?? What had she allowed to happen? Oh god... 

And why had she called him puddin, of all things? 

“I need to go,” she said in a tight tone, pushing up, their bodies separating and making him groan with the pain of their separation. But Joker held her tight, pulling her back. “Don't go Harley…” 

She shook her head, pushing up and away from him. Tears were running down her cheeks in a steady stream, matching the tears in his own eyes. She looked so confused, which broke Joker’s heart further. He had thought when she cried out ‘puddin,’ that he had her back, that he had broken through the barrier between them, but now, seeing the panic and confusion in her gaze, he realized she was still lost. 

Harleen stood up and started to grab her clothing off the floor moving with a panicked jerkiness. He watched her while she swiftly yanked her clothing on, muttering to herself. 

“God...I just had unprotected sex with a patient. I’m going to lose my job...my license…” 

“Harley, no one will know…” Joker sat up, pulling the blankets she had brought him up around his waist, grabbing another to wrap around his shoulders against the chill as he watched her, his heart shattering. 

She turned to look at him and for a split second he saw his Harley reflected back at him. Her emotions were in turmoil and her confusion was like a stab to his heart, but she was there, he felt it when they made love and he saw it in her eyes, just now...she was in there. But the moment passed and she was gone as she yanked her bra on. 

“Harley…” He reached for her, but she danced out of his way as she swiftly finished dressing, wiping tears from her cheeks. 

“I have to go…” she muttered, more to herself than to him. 

Joker stood holding the blanket on his waist around him. “Harley, please…” 

She stopped before she headed to the door, turning to look at him. “What happened to you?” 

He smiled at her and Harleen felt her heart skip a beat. “Dr. Wells doesn't like me much.” 

She frowned, reaching up to run her fingers through her hair. “I’ll...I'll be back tomorrow.” 

“When?” he asked softly. 

“I...I don’t know,” she whispered, tears slowly running down her cheeks as she reached for the door, pulled it open. She closed the door and disappeared. 

Joker watched her leave, his heart breaking as he wondered if this had been the final goodbye? 

He shuddered at the thought, closed his eyes a moment, then looked into the dim nothingness only he could see. He whispered softly, his voice tense as he spoke to himself, to the asylum’s dark shadows, and ultimately to Gotham and Batman. 

“If this is the last time I see Harley, better that I die now...or else a new Joker will be born out of those bitter ashes. And I shall be death unbound, the final joke for so many millions. And none shall be safe, not a dry eye in the house. I will be the Killing Joke.” 

He laughed, a laugh twisted with bitterness and a pain so deep there were no words to describe it. Joker continued to laugh, the sound rising in pitch as Harleen ran down the hall, his laugh following her.


End file.
